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THE  WATCHMAKER'S  WIFE 


OTHER  STORIES 


FRANK  E,  STOCKTON'S  WRITINGS, 


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THE  WATCHMAKER'S  WIFE 


AND 


OTHER    STORIES 


BY 


FRANK  R.   STOCKTON 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1893 


COPYRIGHT,   1893,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  WATCHMAKER'S  WIFE -«      1 

ASAPH 44 

MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 91 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES     ...  141 

THE  KNIFE  THAT  KILLED  Po  HANCY 151 

THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH 174 

THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL  CRUMP  202 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 


IT  was  late  on  a  quiet  August  afternoon  that  the 
little  yacht  "  Flippant "  sailed  into  the  harbor  of 
a  small  Xew  England  town.  The  yacht,  which  was  a 
very  small  one,  belonged  to  my  friend,  George  Grim- 
rose,  who  had  invited  me  to  take  a  week's  cruise  with 
him  along  the  coast.  There  was  no  one  on  board  but 
our  two  selves,  and,  in  fact,  there  was  neither  room 
nor  need  for  anybody  else.  Crimrose  generally  sat 
at  the  helm,  while  I  acted  the  part  of  a  crew  and 
steward.  Crimrose  cooked  our  meals. 

"If  General  Washington  were  aboard,"  he  had 
remarked,  "I  might  let  him  attend  to  the  sails  and 
anchor,  but  I  should  want  to  do  the  cooking  myself." 

We  had  been  out  four  days  and  were  now  bound 
homeward,  and  after  passing  the  night  in  the  quiet 
harbor  we  proposed  to  start  on  our  southerly  course  to 
Boston.  Crimrose  had  intended  going  on  shore  to  put 
a  letter  in  the  post-office ;  but  as  it  was  past  supper- 
time  before  we  entered  the  harbor,  he  concluded  to 
postpone  this  until  morning.  We  had  no  small  boat 
but  the  yacht,  which  was  sloop-rigged,  and  was  so 
small  that  we  could  easily  run  her  up  to  a  pier,  or  even 
ground  her  on  a  beach.  Our  sails  had  been  lowered, 

1 


2  THE   WATCHMAKER'S    WIFE 

anchor  dropped,  supper  cooked  and  eaten,  and  pipes 
smoked;  we  hung  out  our  lantern  and  retired  to  rest. 
The  "  Flippant "  was  really  nothing  more  than  a  sail 
boat,  though  Crimrose  always  insisted  in  calling  her 
a  yacht.  But  there  was  a  little  deck  cabin  divided 
into  two  parts,  each  of  which  was  large  enough  to 
satisfy  the  needs  of  a  tired  man.  There  was  a  slight 
breeze  from  the  southeast,  and  the  gentle  rising  and 
falling  of  the  boat  soon  lulled  us  to  sleep. 

When  I  awoke  the  next  morning  I  knew  it  must  be 
a  fine  day,  because  I  could  see  through  the  opening  of 
the  curtains  which  hung  at  the  entrance  of  my  little 
cabin  the  early  sunlight  upon  the  water,  and  I  con 
cluded  that  there  could  not  be  any  wind  at  all  at 
present,  for  the  little  vessel  was  perfectly  motionless, 
and  I  could  not  feel  the  slightest  swell  nor  movement 
of  the  water.  This  was  unfortunate,  because  if  we 
were  to  reach  Boston  at  the  time  we  expected,  we 
should  need  a  good  wind  that  day. 

I  got  up  and  dressed  myself,  and  went  on  deck.  It 
was  indeed  a  beautiful  day  and  a  quiet  one,  and  look 
ing  out  over  the  stern  I  was  surprised  to  see,  instead 
of  the  town  or  the  sand-hills  in  the  sides  of  its  little 
harbor,  a  wide  expanse  of  water  on  which  there  was  a 
slight  but  well-defined  swell.  Turning  to  look  behind 
me,  I  stood  utterly  astounded  —  the  yacht  was  ashore, 
one-half  her  length  lying  on  a  sandy  beach.  No 
wonder  I  did  not  feel  the  movement  of  the  sea. 

For  nearly  a  minute  I  stood  gazing  about  me  in 
amazement.  Before  me  was  a  wide  beach;  back  of 
that  a  higher  bit  of  land  sprinkled  with  rocks  and 
coarse  shore-grass,  and  still  farther  back,  a  wood, 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  3 

principally  of  pines,  which  shut  out  the  view  beyond. 
This  wood  extended  for  a  considerable  distance  to  the 
right  and  left  and  then  there  was  the  sea  again. 

Crirnrose  was  a  heavy  sleeper,  and  I  could  still  hear 
his  deep  breathing.  Before  awakening  him  I  deter 
mined  to  make  some  further  investigation,  and  quietly 
walking  forward,  I  stepped  ashore.  As  I  did  this  I 
fancied  the  vessel  made  a  little  movement  forward, 
but  this  I  attributed  to  my  excited  state  of  mind.  I 
walked  around  the  bow  of  the  vessel,  and  the  longer 
I  looked  at  her,  the  more  I  was  puzzled  and  astonished 
at  her  situation.  She  was  not  only  grounded,  but  her 
forepart  was  deep  in  the  soft  sand.  How  this  could 
have  happened  I  could  not  conceive.  Had  she  broken 
from  her  anchorage  and  drifted  upon  this  point  of 
land,  or  island,  or  whatever  it  was,  she  would  have 
grounded  broadside  to  the  beach,  and  perhaps  stem 
foremost;  but  how  she  could  have  gone  ashore  head 
on,  and  with  such  force  as  to  drive  her  so  deeply  into 
the  sand  that  she  stood  on  her  even  keel,  and  all  this 
without  shock  enough  to  wake  either  of  us,  passed  my 
comprehension.  I  wanted  to  think  it  out  before  I 
woke  Crimrose,  who  was  such  a  quick  and  impulsive 
man,  and  so  full  of  reasons  for  everything  that  could 
possibly  happen,  that  he  disturbed  my  methods  of 
quiet  ratiocination.  I  would  wait  a  little,  and  en 
deavor  to  work  out  the  problem  myself.  As  I  stood 
gazing-at  the  vessel,  my  eyes  fell  upon  the  boom  near 
where  it  was  attached  to  the  lower  part  of  the  mast, 
and  there,  closely  pressing  the  boom  and  the  furled 
sail,  T  saw  a  crooked  piece  of  iron  which  I  had  never 
noticed  before.  This  was  attached  to  a  stout  rope 


4  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

which  ran  upward  along  the  mast,  making  one  or  two 
turns  around  it.  My  eyes  followed  this  rope  upward 
to  the  masthead,  and  then  above  the  masthead,  and  on 
up,  higher  and  higher,  and  then  throwing  my  head 
backward,  my  eyes  followed  the  rope  still  higher  and 
higher  until  it  ended  at  a  balloon  in  the  air  above  me. 

There  was  but  little  wind ;  the  balloon  was  almost 
stationary,  and  was  apparently  not  much  more  than  a 
hundred  feet  above  the  ground.  From  the  wicker  car 
which  hung  beneath  it  there  came  no  sign  of  occupancy. 
I  ran  along  the  beach  a  little  way  that  I  might  better 
look  up  without  stretching  my  neck,  and  then  I  sat 
down  on  the  beach  and  quietly  laughed  to  myself. 
Here  was  an  unheard-of  and  ridiculous  situation,  and 
I  was  delighted  that  I  had  fully  investigated  and 
worked  out  the  whole  problem  before  waking  Grim- 
rose. 

The  condition  was  now  easy  enough  to  understand; 
the  dangling  grappling-iron  of  an  escaped  balloon  had 
caught  in  the  boom  of  the  "  Flippant " ;  with  a  gqntle 
breeze,  which  was  probably  blowing  early  in  the  night, 
the  strain  at  first  was  very  slight,  but  this  strain  was 
continuous  and  strong,  and  our  cable  had  parted  or 
our  anchor  had  dragged,  and  we  had  been  towed  bow 
foremost  by  the  balloon  until  we  had  touched  this 
beach,  and  then  slowly  and  steadily  had  been  drawn 
forward  until  the  bow  of  the  vessel  was  so  deep  in  the 
sand  that  the  balloon  could  move  it  no  further,  and 
here  we  were.  Now  I  would  awaken  Crimrose. 

This  experienced  navigator  was  not  half  dressed 
before  he  perceived  that  his  yacht  was  unnaturally 
motionless,  and  it  was  not  two  seconds  after  he  had 


THE    WATCHMAKER'S    WIFE  5 

put  his  head  out  from  between  his  little  curtains  that 
he  was  on  deck  gazing  wildly  about  him.  In  another 
second,  bareheaded  and  barefooted,  he  had  sprung 
upon  the  sand,  and  stood  by  my  side.  At  that  instant 
the  "Flippant,"  before  our  eyes,  moved  forward  a 
foot,  it  seemed  to  me.  This  was  easy  enough  to 
understand;  Crimrose  was  tall,  and  round,  and  plump, 
and  stepping  ashore  he  relieved  the  craft  of  more  than 
two  hundred  pounds  of  weight. 

I  pointed  into  the  air,  and  glancing  upward,  Crim 
rose  saw  the  balloon.  When  he  appreciated  the  fact 
that  this  great  object  hovering  above  us  was  made  fast 
by  a  long  rope  to  the  yacht,  Crimrose's  lower  jaw  fell 
so  that  it  looked  as  if  it  were  going  to  drop  off,  and 
with  eyes  like  billiard  balls  he  began  to  feel  wildly 
in  his  pockets ;  then  he  turned  to  me  and  gasped :  — 

"  Give  me  your  knife !     Cut  that  rope." 

But  my  mind  had  been  hard  at  work  on  the  subject 
of  this  balloon. 

"Don't  you  do  that,"  I  said;  "there  may  be  some 
body  in  that  car,  dead  or  alive,  and  if  there  has  been 
an  accident,  there  may  be  papers  or  something.  We 
should  not  let  it  blow  out  to  sea  and  be  lost  for 
ever." 

"What  is  all  that  to  me?"  exclaimed  Crimrose,  red 
in  the  face ;  "  it  will  have  the  mast  out  of  my  yacht  in 
a  minute ;  it  will  work  her  seams  loose ;  it  will  ruin 
her.  Where  is  your  knife?  I  have  lost  mine.'' 

"Crimrose,"  said  I,  "if  you  cut  that  rope  and  let 
that  balloon  get  away,  we  may  do  a  great  injury.  Bal 
loons  don't  float  about  that  way  unless  something  has 
happened.  It  won't  hurt  the  'Flippant'  to  hold  it  a 


6  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

little  longer,  until  we  make  up  our  minds  what  is  best 
to  do." 

"It  is  best  to  cut  her  loose! "  exclaimed  Crimrose; 
"that  is  what  we  should  do." 

I  put  my  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Stop, "  said  I ;  "  we  can  do  better  than  that.  First, 
let  us  find  out  whether  there  is  anybody  in  that 
car." 

Without  answering,  Crimrose  stepped  back,  put  a 
hand  on  each  side  of  his  mouth,  and  shouted  in  a  high, 
shrill  voice :  — 

"Hello,  up  there!" 

Almost  immediately  a  large  felt  hat  appeared  above 
the  edge  of  the  basket,  and  after  it  a  face.  It  was 
that  of  a  man  with  grizzled  whiskers  and  beard. 

"Who  are  you,  and  what  are  you  about?"  shouted 
Crimrose. 

The  man  put  his  head  a  little  way  over  the  edge  of 
the  basket ;  he  seemed  very  much  afraid  of  falling  out. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,"  he  shouted;  "  is  that  rope  hitched 
tight  and  strong  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered;  "you  are  secure  for  the  present." 

"But  you  can't  hook  on  to  my  boat  any  longer," 
cried  Crimrose.  "Do  you  want  to  come  down?  If 
you  do,  pull  your  valve-rope  and  let  out  your  gas." 

"I  do  want  to  come  down,"  cried  the  man.  "No 
body  ever  wanted  to  come  down  as  much  as  I  do,  but 
the  valve-rope  is  broken.  I  did  let  out  a  great  deal  of 
the  gas,  but  I  can't  let  out  any  more  now.  But  don't 
you  think  you  can  get  this  balloon  to  the  ground? 
Can't  you  pull  us  down?  " 

"  I  can  bring  you  down/'  cried  Crimrose;  " I  will  get 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  1 

my  rifle  and  put  some  holes  in  the  top  of  the  balloon, 
and  that  will  let  out  the  gas  quick  enough !  " 

I  expostulated.  " Don't  do  that,"  I  said;  "you 
might  rip  a  great  rent  in  the  silk,  so  that  the  balloon 
would  fall  suddenly,  and  the  man  be  killed." 

I  also  thought  it  likely  that  in  his  excitement  Grim- 
rose  might  hit  the  man  in  the  car  instead  of  the  top  of 
the  balloon,  but  I  did  not  think  it  wise  to  say  this. 
It  was  plain  to  see  that  a  large  portion  of  the  gas  had 
escaped,  for  the  lower  part  of  the  balloon  hung  loose 
and  flabby,  and  the  gas  that  remained  was  not  much 
more  than  enough  to  sustain  the  occupant  of  the  car 
at  his  present  moderate  distance  above  the  earth.  I 
thought  it  not  at  all  impossible  that  we  might  be  able 
to  pull  down  the  balloon. 

At  a  short  distance  from  us,  at  the  edge  of  the  higher 
ground  above  the  beach,  stood  a  small  gnarled  tree, 
cedar  or  something  of  the  kind,  with  one  of  its  crooked 
roots  making  a  little  loop  above  the  ground.  This,  I 
believed,  would  be  strong  enough  to  hold  the  balloon, 
and  in  a  minute  I  formed  a  plan. 

Crimrose  had  gone  on  board  to  put  on  his  shoes,  and 
while  he  was  doing  this  I  got  out  a  long  rope  which 
had  been  stowed  away  on  the  yacht,  and  making  it  fast 
to  the  grapnel  of  the  balloon,  I  carried  the  other  end 
of  it  to  the  gnarled  tree,  passed  it  under  the  root,  and 
fastened  it  to  the  trunk.  By  this  time  Crimrose  had 
reappeared,  and  I  proposed  my  plan  to  him. 

"  All  right, "  said  he  ;  "  anything  so  we  get  her  loose 
from  the  yacht."  And  standing  on  our  forward  deck, 
he  reached  up  as  far  as  possible,  and  took  hold  of  the 
balloon  rope,  and  hung  upon  it  with  his  whole  weight. 


8  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

Down  came  the  balloon  until  Crimrose  was  on  his 
knees. 

"  Hurrah !  "  I  cried,  and  loosening  the  grapnel  from 
the  boom,  I  ran  to  the  tree,  and  pulled  the  rope  nearly 
taut. 

"Let  go!  "  I  cried,  and  Crimrose  released  his  hold; 
the  balloon  rose  into  the  air,  moved  over  the  little  tree, 
and  then  stopped.  With  the  rope  under  the  root,  and 
a  half -turn  around  the  trunk,  I  found  I  could  easily 
hold  it.  Even  when  the  balloon  shot  upward,  there 
was  no  cry  from  the  car.  Its  occupant  evidently  saw 
what  we  were  about. 

Crimrose  was  so  delighted  to  see  his  yacht  relieved 
from  the  strain  of  the  balloon,  that  he  seemed  satisfied 
with  what  had  been  done,  and  prepared  to  examine 
his  vessel  to  discover  what  damage,  if  any,  it  had 
sustained;  but  I  shouted  to  him  to  come  to  me. 

"  You  pull  her  down  a  few  feet  at  a  time,  and  I  will 
keep  the  rope  tight  as  it  shortens ;  then  we  shall  soon 
have  that  man  on  solid  ground." 

Crimrose  looked  up,  shook  his  head  a  little,  but  set 
to  work  with  such  vigor  that  it  was  not  long  before 
the  bottom  of  the  car  was  but  a  little  above  the  top  of 
the  tree.  I  now  saw  that  the  tree  branches  would 
interfere  with  the  safe  descent  of  the  aeronaut,  and 
making  the  rope  fast  to  the  root,  I  suggested  to  Crim 
rose  that  he  sit  down  and  take  a  little  rest.  I  then 
got  an  axe  from  the  yacht,  and  cut  off  the  tree  not  far 
from  the  ground;  its  roots  were  all  that  we  needed. 

Crimrose  and  I  dragged  away  the  little  tree,  and 
then  we  set  to  work  again.  When  the  car  was  within 
a  few  feet  of  the  ground,  I  cautioned  the  old  man,  who 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S    WIFE  9 

gazed  at  us  with  an  expression  which  indicated  more 
interest  in  our  proceedings  than  any  other  emotion,  not 
to  try  to  get  out  until  I  told  him  to,  for  the  balloon 
might  give  a  jump  and  jerk  the  rope  away  from  us. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  be  afraid, "  said  the  man ;  "  I  am  not 
going  to  get  out  until  everything  is  tight  and  fast." 

When  the  car  was  as  low  as  we  could  get  it,  and 
everything  was  tight  and  fast,  the  aeronaut,  with  much 
nimblenees,  scrambled  over  the  edge  of  the  basket  and 
approached  us,  offering  each  a  hand. 

"  Thanks,  both  of  you,  ever  so  much, "  he  said ;  "  if 
there  is  ever  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  I  hope  you 
will  let  me  know." 

"  How  did  this  happen?  "  asked  Crimrose.  "  What 
made  you  hook  on  to  my  yacht?  " 

"  Excuse  me  one  minute,  gentlemen, "  said  the  man, 
and  going  to  the  basket  he  put  his  head  over  the  edge, 
and  looked  down  into  it. 

"Come,  Sarah,"  he  said;  "you  can  get  out  now." 

At  this  we  were  treated  to  a  new  surprise ;  for  an 
elderly  woman,  wearing  a  black  bonnet,  and  wrapped 
in  a  gray  shawl,  put  her  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
side  of  the  car. 

" I  don't  see  any  steps,"  she  said.  " How  do  people 
get  out  of  these  things?" 

"  The  best  way  they  can,  my  dear, "  replied  the  man ; 
"at  least,  in  a  case  like  this." 

"  All  right, "  said  the  old  lady,  and  in  a  minute  she 
was  standing  alongside  the  man. 

"This  is  my  wife,  gentlemen,"  said  he, —  "Mrs.  Po- 
cock,  and  she  is  just  as  much  obliged  to  you  as  I  am 
for  helping  us  to  land." 


10  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

They  were  a  queer-looking  couple;  the  man  was 
short  and  wiry  in  build,  with  twinkling  blue  eyes,  and 
a  line  of  gray  beard  under  his  chin;  his  wife,  shorter 
than  he,  with  her  black  bonnet,  her  spectacles,  and 
gray  shawl,  looked  as  little  like  an  aeronaut  as  could 
possibly  be  imagined. 

"Indeed  I  am  obliged,"  said  she;  "for  the  last  six 
teen  hours  I  have  been  about  as  much  scared  as  any 
body  can  be,  except  when  I  was  asleep.  And  looking 
over  the  edge  of  that  car  made  me  so  dizzy  that  I  have 
been  curled  up  in  the  bottom  until  I  can  scarcely  get 
my  joints  out  straight  again." 

"  Hut  how  did  this  all  happen?  "  I  asked.  "  It  seems 
a  very  odd  thing  for  you  two  to  go  up  in  a  balloon." 

"Odd!  I  should  say  so,"  replied  the  man.  "I'll 
tell  you  in  twenty  words  just  how  it  happened.  But 
by  the  way,  my  dear,"  he  interpolated,  taking  out  his 
watch,  "  it  is  not  sixteen  hours  that  we  have  been  in 
the  car,  for  we  were  thirty  minutes  late  in  starting. 
You  see,"  said  he,  "I  am  a  watchmaker,  Sylvester 
Pocock,  of  Barnville,  Massachusetts,  and  for  a  long 
time  1  have  wanted  to  test  the  movements  of  a  watch 
at  different  altitudes.  Great  things  might  come  out 
of  experiments  of  this  kind.  At  last  I  got  a  chance; 
I  made  the  acquaintance  of  an  aeronaut,  and  he  agreed 
to  take  me  up  with  him." 

"And  me,"  added  Mrs.  Pocock;  "for  I  would  not 
let  my  husband  go  alone." 

"He  wanted  three  persons,"  continued  the  watch 
maker,  "  and  as  Mrs.  Pocock  might  never  have  such  a 
chance  again,  I  agreed  to  take  her." 

"Put  it  as  you  please,"  his  wife  remarked,  "any 
way  I  went." 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  11 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  watchmaker, 
"  you  may  scarcely  believe  it,  but  I  tell  you  that  after 
me  and  Mrs.  Pocock  had  snugly  packed  ourselves  in 
that  car,  me  with  three  of  my  best  watches  in  my 
pockets,  and  she  with  everything  to  make  her  com 
fortable  for  an  hour's  sail,  which  was  all  we  bargained 
for,  that  aeronaut  —  a  large  man  by  the  way,  and  a  lit 
tle  given,  I  am  afraid,  to  ardent  spirits  —  actually  fell 
out  of  his  balloon  just  as  the  rope  had  been  cut.  He 
was  waving  his  hat  and  leaning  far  over  the  edge  of 
the  car,  and  I  think  made  a  grab  at  something  some 
body  held  out  to  him,  when  out  he  toppled,  turned  a 
somersault,  and  came  down  on  his  feet,  and  at  that 
instant  up  we  went  with  a  shoot  that  nearly  took  our 
breath  away.  I  don't  believe  he  was  hurt  much,  for  I 
could  see  him  running  and  waving  his  arms,  and  then 
in  a  short  time  everything  seemed  to  be  fading  away, 
and  we  went  on,  up  and  up,  scarcely  knowing  what 
had  happened." 

"Scarcely!"  said  Mrs.  Pocock;  "as  far  as  I  was 
concerned,  it  wasn't  as  much  as  that.  I  knew  nothing 
at  all  except  that  that  man  had  tumbled  over  the  edge 
of  the  car,  and  it  made  me  so  dizzy  even  to  think  of 
looking  over  that  I  curled  myself  up  in  the  bottom,  as 
I  told  you,  knowing  no  more  about  anything  than  if 
I  hadn't  been  there." 

"  I  did  what  I  could, "  said  the  watchmaker ;  "  but 
that  wasn't  much.  I  knew  if  I  let  out  the  gas,  the 
balloon  would  come  down,  so  I  got  hold  of  the  valve- 
rope  and  let  out  a  lot  of  the  gas,  and  we  came  down 
pretty  fast.  Then  I  began  to  think  we  were  coming 
clown  too  fast,  and  I  let  the  valve  shut  again.  At 


12  THE   WATCHMAKER'S    WIFE 

that  time  we  were  not  much  further  from  the  ground 
than  when  we  were  fastened  to  your  boat,  and  the  wind 
was  taking  us  along  slowly.  I  could  see  people  below, 
and  a  good  many  of  them  shouted  to  us.  I  tried  to 
open  the  valve  again,  thinking  we'd  let  ourselves 
down  kind  of  gradual,  when  the  rope  broke,  and  that 
was  the  end  of  it.  The  wind  took  us  along,  we  not 
knowing  what  to  do,  and  at  last  I  thought  of  letting 
out  the  grappling-iron,  and  then  I  did  it  as  quick  as 
I  could,  but  it  wasn't  no  use.  We  passed  over  fences 
and  trees  and  lots  of  things  it  might  have  caught  onto ; 
but  our  rope  didn't  reach  low  enough,  and  we  went 
on  and  on  until  it  got  dark  and  couldn't  see  things 
below  us,  and  as  there  wasn't  anything  else  to  be 
done,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  try  to  make  myself 
comfortable  and  take  a  nap,  for  when  daylight  came  I 
might  need  all  the  strength  I'd  got.  The  fact  is,  I 
didn't  wake  up  until  I  heard  you  calling  to  me.  Some 
time  in  the  night  I  felt  a  little  sort  of  a  jerk  which 
must  have  been  when  we  hooked  onto  your  boat,  but  I 
didn't  know  what  it  was,  and  I  didn't  get  up  to  look 
out;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  it  was  a  dreadful  thing, 
peering  out  over  the  top  of  that  basket  into  the  black 
ness  of  the  night.  I  think  it  likely  when  the  night 
drew  on,  the  balloon  sunk  more  and  more  until  the 
grappling-iron  got  low  enough  to  catch  onto  your  boat, 
which  was  a  blessed  thing  for  us,  gentlemen,  for 
where  we'd  drifted  to  if  we  hadn't  hooked  fast  to  you, 
there's  no  telling." 

"But  all's  well  that  ends  well,"  said  Crimrose; 
"  and  now  let  us  have  some  breakfast.  I  suppose  you 
must  be  hungry;  at  any  rate,  I  am." 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S    WIFE  13 

"Now  that  my  feet's  on  the  ground,  I  am  hungry/' 
said  Mrs.  Pocock;  "for  it  was  in  the  afternoon  when 
we  went  up,  and  we  expected  to  come  down  again  in 
plenty  of  time  for  supper." 

While  Crimrose,  assisted  by  Mrs.  Pocock  and  the 
watchmaker,  prepared  the  morning  meal,  I  started  off 
to  find  out,  if  possible,  where  we  were.  I  walked 
along  the  beach  to  the  eastward  and  soon  finding  my 
self  at  the  end  of  the  little  woods,  I  went  inland  and 
scrambled  to  the  top  of  a  rocky  hill,  and  from  this  I 
could  plainly  see  that  we  were  on  one  of  the  small 
uninhabited  islands  which,  dot  the  coast  of  New 
England. 

At  varying  distances,  but  none  of  them  nearer  than 
half  a  mile,  were  other  islands  —  I  counted  five  of 
them  altogether.  When  I  made  this  discovery,  I  went 
back  to  the  beach  and  found  breakfast  ready.  The 
meal  was  a  very  good  one.  Mrs.  Pocock,  who  evi 
dently  was  a  woman  Avho  was  in  the  habit  of  having 
her  own  way,  had  done  a  good  many  things  in  the 
way  of  cooking  which  Crimrose  generally  insisted  on 
doing  himself.  We  all  began  in  pleasant  humor  to 
discuss  the  situation. 

"I  don't  know  what  island  this  is,"  said  Crimrose, 
"  but,  from  my  knowledge  of  the  coast,  I  am  quite  sure 
that  if  we  take  a  southwesterly  course  we  shall  soon 
be  in  sight  of  land,  and  then  I  shall  have  my  bear 
ings.  I  shall  be  glad  to  take  you  two  to  Boston  with 
us,  and  then  you  can  easily  go  to  your  home  by  train." 

"  But  how  about  the  balloon?  How  are  we  going  to 
get  that  back  to  Barnville?"  asked  the  watchmaker. 

Crimrose  laughed.     "  The  best  thing  we  can  do  with 


14  THE   WATCHMAKER'S    WIFE 

the  balloon  is  to  get  your  traps  out  of  her  and  cut 
her  loose  and  let  her  sail  to  the  north  pole,  and  it 
might  be  a  good  idea  to  put  our  names  on  a  card  in  it, 
and  then  perhaps  in  that  way  at  least  we  might  get 
ahead  of  any  Arctic  explorers.  I  should  like  the  men 
who  finally  discover  the  north  pole  to  find  my  name 
there." 

"That  is  a  pleasant  fancy,"  said  Mr.  Pocock,  "but 
it  will  not  do.  Robert  Moxham,  who  owns  the  bal 
loon,  can't  afford  to  lose  her;  and  after  his  kindness 
in  agreeing  to  take  me  up  to  make  my  experiments,  it 
would  be  a  pretty  mean  thing  for  me  to  go  away  and 
leave  his  property  if  there  was  any  way  of  getting  it 
back  to  him.  I  reckon  that  if  we  was  to  cut  some 
slits  in  the  bag  that  could  easily  be  sewed  up  again, 
that  would  let  out  the  gas,  we  could  pack  up  the  bal 
loon  and  take  it  along.  Of  course  we  should  have 
to  leave  the  car  behind,  for  that  would  be  most  too  big 
for  your  boat." 

"Well,"  said  Crimrose,  "if  you  can  do  all  that 
before  I  am  ready  to  sail,  I  don't  mind,  but  I  can't 
wait  for  you.  I've  got  to  be  in  Boston  to-morrow 
night,  which  is  Saturday,  for  I  have  very  important 
business  on  hand  next  week.  The  fact  is,  I  am  to  be 
married,  and  this  is  my  last  bachelor  cruise." 

"Married!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Pocock,  taking  off  her 
spectacles  and  looking  at  him ;  "  that  is  very  interest 
ing." 

"  Yes,  and  to  the  best  girl  in  the  world.  And  now 
let  us  go  and  get  the  'Flippant '  afloat.  There  will  be 
a  good  wind  in  half  an  hour,  or  I  am  no  sailor." 

We  had  spread  the  breakfast  cloth  upon  the  clean 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  15 

sand,  and  Mrs.  Pocock  now  began  to  gather  up  the 
dishes,  while  Crimrose  walked  to  the  yacht.  The  tide 
had  already  risen,  and  the  little  boat  was  now  almost 
surrounded  by  water.  The  watchmaker  went  toward 
the  balloon,  with  a  troubled  expression;  he  would 
require  a  good  deal  of  help  before  he  could  pull  it 
down  low  enough  to  cut  a  split  in  the  upper  part,  and 
then  it  would  take  a  good  while  to  pack  it. 

I  stood  looking  out  over  the  sea.  For  the  time  I 
forgot  the  strange  chance  by  which  we  had  been  towed 
by  a  balloon  to  this  island;  the  unexpected  arrival 
from  the  upper  air  of  an  addition  to  our  party,  and 
the  work  to  be  done  in  order  that  we  might  get  afloat 
and  start  on  our  homeward  cruise ;  all  was  forgotten 
in  the  thought  that  next  week  Crimrose  was  to  be 
married  to  the  girl  I  loved. 

The  story  of  my  affections  can  be  told  in  a  few 
words  :  I  had  loved  Jeannette  Collins  for  a  long  time, 
and  I  had  a  fancy  she  knew  it,  but  was  not  sure,  for  I 
had  never  told  her.  Often  and  often  had  I  intended 
to  tell  her,  but  there  had  always  been  some  reason  why 
I  had  deferred  speaking.  In  those  days  I  was  not  a 
man  who  always  acted  with  the  promptness  that  his 
interests  demanded. 

But  when  Crimrose  arrived  upon  the  scene  during 
the  previous  winter,  he  proved  to  be  a  man  of  unusual 
promptness.  Without  any  hesitation  at  all  he  fell  in 
love  with  Jeannette,  and  very  shortly  afterward  offered 
himself  to  her.  I  have  reason  to  know  that  the  matter 
was  not  settled  immediately.  But  after  a  time  it  was 
settled,  and  they  were  to  be  married  next  week.  It 
had  not  been  generally  expected  that  the  marriage 


16  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

would  take  place  so  soon;  but  Crimrose  had  deter 
mined  upon  a  wedding  trip  to  Europe,  and  his  plans 
demanded  that  this  should  be  begun  before  the  sum 
mer  was  over.  As  I  said  before,  he  was  very  prompt 
and  energetic  in  everything  that  he  did. 

But  it  was  of  no  use  to  think  of  those  things  then. 
I  had  shut  my  lips  tightly,  and  ground  my  teeth 
pretty  often  during  the  last  six  months,  and  I  did  it 
again.  Then  I  went  to  the  yacht  to  help  Crimrose 
get  it  afloat.  We  found  this  not  so  easy  a  task  as  we 
supposed  it  would  be.  Though  Mr.  Pocock  added 
his  strength  to  ours,  we  were  not  able  to  push  the 
"Flippant"  back  into  the  water  in  which  her  stern 
was  already  afloat.  During  our  efforts  the  tide  rose 
considerably  higher,  and  then  we  were  surprised  to 
see  that  the  bow  of  the  yacht  did  not  rise  with  it. 

"  By  George !  "  cried  Crimrose,  "  I  believe  the  water 
is  running  into  her  instead  of  lifting  her."  And  on 
examination  this  was  found  to  be  true ;  the  "  Flippant " 
was  leaking  forward.  We  now  all  set  to  work  to  keel 
over  the  yacht,  and  before  long  we  discovered  the 
damage  and  the  cause  of  it.  A  jagged  bit  of  rock, 
nearly  buried  in  the  sand,  had  been  pressed  against 
her  bottom  by  the  steady  strain  of  the  balloon,  until 
it  made  a  hole  a  foot  and  a  half  long. 

This  was  to  us  all  a  doleful  sight.  Even  Mrs. 
Pocock  could  appreciate  the  extent  of  the  disaster. 
The  "  Flippant "  was  an  old  boat,  although  Crimrose 
had  always  asserted  that  she  was  just  as  good  as  if 
she  had  been  built  the  day  before,  and  I  fancy  her 
planks  were  rotten,  for  the  piece  of  rock  had  broken 
through  her  bottom  as  if  it  had  been  made  of  earthen- 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  17 

ware.  Even  while  we  were  examining  the  lamentable 
fracture,  the  water  was  gradually  rising  and  conceal 
ing  it  from  our  view,  and  we  could  not  keel  over  the 
"  Flippant "  any  farther. 

Crimrose,  who  had  been  standing  half -leg  deep  in 
water,  now  splashed  ashore  and  began  to  clench  his 
fists  and  swear. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  shouted  to  me,  "that  we  can't 
leave  this  island?  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  repair 
that  yacht,  and  in  twenty  minutes  she  will  be  full  of 
water."  And  turning  toward  the  balloon,  he  addressed 
it  in  terms  which,  had  the  great  swaying  body  had 
ears,  would  have  dreadfully  shocked  it.  As  it  was, 
it  shocked  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pocock. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  the  watchmaker,  "that  that 
balloon  should  have  caused  your  disaster;  but  for  all 
that  I  am  glad  our  grapnel  caught  in  your  yacht.  If 
it  had  not,  my  wife  and  I  might  have  floated  out  to 
sea  and  been  forever  lost.  As  it  is,  we  are  all  four  on 
dry  land." 

"Dry  land!"  exclaimed  Crimrose;  "I  don't  want 
to  be  on  dry  land.  I  am  on  my  way  to  Boston,  and 
how  in  the  name  of  all  that's  wicked  am  I  to  get 
there?" 

"Perhaps  some  passing  vessel  may  take  us  off," 
suggested  Mrs.  Pocock,  quietly. 

"Passing  vessel!"  returned  Crimrose;  "when  ves 
sels  pass,  they  don't  pass  anywhere  near  such  a  vil- 
lanous  bunch  of  rocks  as  this.  Confound  that 
balloon!  Somebody  give  me  a  knife." 

The  watchmaker  rose  to  the  occasion.  "  There's  no 
use  in  getting  angry,  sir,"  said  he,  "and  it  won't  help 


18  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

matters  to  cut  loose  the  balloon.  If  there  is  anything 
to  eat  and  drink  on  board  your  boat,  and  if  there  is 
any  property  there  that  you  wish  to  keep  from  getting 
wet,  I  think  we  ought  to  wade  in  and  bring  it  ashore." 

"The  most  sensible  thing  that  has  been  said  yet," 
said  Mrs.  Pocock  to  me,  and  I  agreed  with  her. 

In  half  an  hour  everything  that  could  be  moved 
from  the  yacht  had  been  brought  ashore  and  been  car 
ried  up  to  the  sheltered  spot  near  the  wood,  and  Grim- 
rose  was  sitting  on  a  rock  with  his  fingers  in  his 
hair. 

"  I  tell  you, "  he  cried,  "  there  was  never  anything 
so  diabolically  unlucky  since  the  beginning  of  the 
world.  It  may  be  hours  and  even  a  day  before  a  fish 
ing-boat  or  any  other  craft  comes  near  this  wretched 
island.  And  what  am  I  to  do?  I  did  not  even  mail 
my  letter  to  Jeannette  last  night.  She  hasn't  heard 
from  me  since  we  started,  and  if  I  am  not  home  to 
morrow,  she  will  be  certain  to  think  I  am  drowned. 
It  will  kill  her.  Yes,  sir!  It  will  kill  her." 

Mrs.  Pocock,  who  was  not  far  away,  was  much 
affected  by  this  view  of  the  case.  Drawing  me  aside, 
she  said :  — 

"It  seems  to  me,  sir,  that  this  is  a  pretty  bad  state 
of  things.  As  far  as  living  goes,  there  is  nothing 
much  to  complain  of,  and  the  weather's  mild,  and  we 
have  victuals  enough  to  last  us  for  a  week  if  we  are 
careful.  But  when  we  think  there  is  a  poor  lady  on 
shore  expecting  to  be  married  early  next  week  and 
having  every  reason  to  believe  that  her  intended  is  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  it  is  enough  to  make  anybody's 
heart  ache.  Do  you  know  the  young  lady,  sir  ?  I 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  19 

think  you  must,  for  you  are  looking  aAvfully  doleful 
yourself.  Is  she  of  a  tender  disposition?" 

I  was  indeed  feeling  very  doleful,  and  I  was  glad  to 
have  the  opportunity  of  speaking  to  one  so  sympa 
thetic  as  this  good  woman.  I  described  Jeannette  to 
her  in  a  way  that  made  her  look  very  steadfastly  at  me. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  that  a  woman  like  that  should  be 
weeping  for  a  lost  lover,  and  he  safe  on  this  dry  land. 
Have  you  known  the  lady  long,  sir?"  she  asked.  "I 
suppose  your  friend  was  proud  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  such  a  lady." 

"  Make  me  acquainted !  "  I  exclaimed ;  "  I  have 
known  her  for  years,  and  he  never  saw  her  until  last 
Christmas." 

"I  am  a  person  who  speaks  her  mind,"  said  she, 
after  another  steadfast  gaze  at  me,  aand  if  the  young 
woman  is  all  you  say  she  is,  it  strikes  me  that  it  is  a 
pity  that  somebody  else  did  not  marry  her  before  that 
other  gentleman  met  her." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  "  I  said  quickly. 

"The  principal  thing  I  mean,"  said  she,  "is  that  I 
don't  think  much  of  him.  But  I  dare  say  you  con 
sider  I  have  no  right  to  meddle  in  affairs  that  don't 
concern  me,  and  so  I'll  stop  it." 

I  looked  in  astonishment  at  the  watchmaker's  wife; 
she  was  certainly  a  person  who  meddled  with  matters 
that  were  none  of  her  business. 

The  greater  part  of  the  day  was  passed  in  vain 
efforts  to  discover  some  approaching  vessel.  We 
hoisted  our  flag  upside  down  on  the  mast  of  the  yacht; 
we  hung  a  sheet  from  the  tallest  tree  on  the  edge  of 
the  wood;  but  the  day  began  to  close,  and  we  saw  no 


20  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

sign  of  life  upon  the  water  except  the  smoke  of  some 
distant  steamers.  The  sun  was  already  low  when 
Crimrose  came  hurrying  to  me  with  Mr.  Pocock. 

"This  man,"  said  he,  "has  proposed  something 
which  may  be  of  service.  He  has  noticed,  and  I  should 
have  noticed  it  myself  if  my  mind  had  not  been  so 
disturbed,  that  the  wind  has  veered  to  the  southeast, 
and  says  that  that  balloon  of  his  will  easily  carry  one 
person,  and  that  if  one  of  us  were  to  get  in  her  and 
put  the  valve  in  working  order,  it  would  not  take  long 
for  this  breeze  to  blow  the  balloon  to  the  mainland. 
It  would  be  easy  enough  then  to  come  down  and  send 
somebody  over  here  to  take  us  off.  If  word  could  be 
sent  immediately  to  Jeannette,  and  I  could  get  home 
by  Sunday,  things  would  not  be  so  very  bad,  after  all." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  said  the  watchmaker's  wife, 
"and  I  wonder  none  of  us  thought  of  it  before." 

"It  was  of  no  use  thinking  of  it,"  said  her  husband, 
"until  the  wind  changed." 

"  Then  I  suppose  the  thing  ought  to  be  done  as  soon 
as  may  be  before  the  wind  changes  again,"  said  she. 
"  I  should  say,  Mr.  Crimrose,  that  when  you  go  over, 
you'll  have  to  leave  the  balloon  wherever  you  land,  to 
stay  there  until  it  is  called  for,  and  then  you  will  send 
some  sort  of  a  vessel  here  to  take  us  off." 

"  Me !  "  exclaimed  Crimrose ;  "  I  can't  go  in  the  bal 
loon.  I  am  ever  so  much  too  heavy.  She  wouldn't 
begin  to  carry  me." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  weigh  any  more  than  me  and 
Mr.  Pocock,"  said  she. 

"  I  think  I  do,"  said  Crimrose;  "besides,  there  isn't 
as  much  gas  in  the  balloon  as  when  you  came  down. 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S    WIFE  21 

Of  course  it  is  always  escaping.  But  there  is  plenty 
to  carry  a  light  person,  say  Mr.  Pocock,  and  he  under 
stands  more  about  balloons  than  I  do,  anyway." 

"Mr.  Pocock!"  exclaimed  the  watchmaker's  wife; 
"  I  would  like  you  to  know,  sir,  that  Mr.  Pocock  weighs 
just  as  much  as  he  and  me  weighs ;  for  if  he  goes,  I  go, 
for  he  don't  go  without  me.  And  when  I  say  that 
there  is  nothing  on  earth  that  would  tempt  me  to  get 
into  a  balloon  again, — for  sooner  than  do  that  I'd  spend 
the  rest  of  my  life  here,  at  least  as  long  as  roots  and 
leaves  and  fish,  if  we  could  get  any,  would  keep  me 
alive,  —  you  will  understand  that  Mr.  Pocock  is  not 
going  in  that  balloon.  It  is  so  important  that  you 
should  get  over  to  the  mainland  just  as  soon  as  you  can, 
and  as  it  doesn't  matter  to  the  rest  of  us  if  we  wait 
here  awhile  until  we  can  be  taken  off  comfortably,  I 
should  say  that  you  are  the  man  who  ought  to  go, 
and  I  believe  the  balloon  would  carry  you  just  as  well 
as  not.  Mr.  Pocock  and  I  is  short,  but  we're  solid." 

Crimrose  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  walked 
toward  the  beach. 

"That wouldn't  do  at  all,"  he  said;  "a  light  person 
would  be  perfectly  safe,  but  it  wouldn't  carry  me." 

I  put  my  hands  in  my  pockets  and  walked  toward 
the  beach.  There  was  no  disguising  the  fact  that  I 
was  a  light  person, —  at  least,  a  great  deal  lighter  than 
Crimrose.  The  next  day  was  Saturday.  Fishing- 
vessels  seldom  started  out  on  Saturday,  and  it  was  not 
likely  that  any  small  craft  would  be  sailing  as  far  as 
this  against  a  rising  east  wind.  Even  now  Jeannette 
must  be  feeling  a  great  deal  of  anxiety;  for  Crimrose 
had  told  her  that  he  might  possibly  be  back  by  Friday, 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

although.  I  had  not  thought  there  was  any  reason  for 
supposing  he  would  be  able  to  do  this.  Moreover,  he 
had  not  sent  her  the  letter,  which  I  certainly  should 
have  found  an  opportunity  to  mail  had  I  been  in  his 
place.  Even  if  she  had  been  sure  he  was  safe,  the 
case  was  a  very  bad  one ;  for  if  Crimrose  did  not  get 
back  before  Monday  or  Tuesday,  the  wedding  would 
have  to  be  postponed,  and  I  could  imagine  how  Jean- 
nette  would  feel  if  her  wedding  did  not  take  place  on 
the  day  for  which  all  the  preparations  had  been  made. 
Crimrose  should  never  have  started  on  a  cruise  like 
this  at  such  a  time.  1  had  told  him  so;  but  he  was  a 
man  who  would  have  his  own  way,  and  I  am  not  at  all 
sure  that  the  desire  to  get  him  back  in  good  time  had 
not  assisted  me  to  make  up  my  mind  to  go  with  him. 
I  stood  and  looked  out  over  the  water,  and  then  I 
turned  to  Crimrose,  who  was  also  meditating. 

"I  think  I  will  go  over  in  that  balloon,"  I  said. 

He  sprang  toward  me,  his  face  blazing  with  delight. 
"Harry,"  he  cried,  seizing  one  of  my  hands  in  both  of 
his,  "  you  are  a  trump !  You  are  a  friend  indeed,  and 
it  is  just  what  I  should  have  expected  from  you.  The 
thing  is  easy  enough  to  do,  of  course,  and  I  should  be 
the  first  man  to  offer  to  go  if  the  balloon  were  filled 
with  gas;  but  it  won't  carry  me  as  it  is,  and  it  will 
carry  you ;  and  although  I  should  not  have  asked  you 
to  do  it,  I  accept  your  offer  with  all  the  gratitude  that 
one  friend  can  show  another." 

"  Come  on, "  said  I ;  "  let  us  get  the  balloon  in  shape 
to  start;  that  valve  should  be  put  in  order." 

Crimrose  was  full  of  enthusiasm.  "  I  am  very  sure 
there  is  nothing  the  matter  with  the  valve,  except 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  23 

that  the  cord  is  broken.  If  we  tie  another  piece  of 
string  to  it,  you  will  be  all  right,  and  have  as  much 
command  of  the  balloon  as  if  you  were  driving  a  pony 
to  a  cart.  I  will  get  some  cord  and  make  that  right 
in  no  time." 

Mr.  Pocock  came  to  me. 

"I  didn't  think  you'd  be  the  one  to  go,"  said  he, 
"  but  that  is  not  my  affair.  But  I  believe  the  balloon 
will  carry  you ;  and  if  you  take  all  the  rope  you  can  get 
off  of  that  boat  and  make  the  grappling-line  longer,  I 
haven't  a  doubt  you  can  catch  hold  of  something  as 
soon  as  you  get  over  land." 

The  watchmaker's  wife  came  and  stood  close  by  me. 

"Well,  well,"  said  she,  "you  must  have  a  powerful 
friendship  for  that  gentleman  to  undertake  such  a  trip 
for  him.  You  couldn't  do  more  if  he  was  your  own 
brother, —  but  perhaps  you  were  boys  together?  " 

"Oh  no,"  said  I,  "I  haven't  known  him  long,  and  I 
can't  say  it  is  for  his  sake  I  am  going."  I  did  not 
intend  to  make  this  remark,  but  it  came  out  very 
naturally. 

"Oh!"  said  she,  "it  isn't,  isn't  it?  Well,  it  is  a 
bad  thing  for  a  young  lady  expecting  to  be  married 
not  to  know  what's  become  of  her  intended,  and  per 
haps  not  to  see  him  turn  up  until  the  wedding  day's 
over.  But  for  all  that,  I  say  it  would  take  a  pretty 
strong  friendship  to  make  a  man  risk  his  life  in  a  half- 
filled  balloon  even  for  the  sake  of  her  peace  of  mind. 
If  I  was  you,  I  wouldn't  go  an  inch.  I'd  stay  here 
until  somebody  came  along  and  took  us  off.  And  after 
all,  it  isn't  a  matter  of  life  and  death  that  the  lady's 
mind  should  be  relieved.  Don't  go." 


24  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

"Madam,"  said  I,  "you  don't  understand  my  feel 
ings  on  the  subject,  and  it  is  quite  natural  that  you 
shouldn't;  but  I  assure  you  that  that  lady's  peace  of 
mind  is  of  the  greatest  importance  to  me,  and  I  shall 
try  to  get  over  to  the  mainland  and  let  her  know  there 
is  no  reason  for  her  apprehensions,  which  have  prob 
ably  already  seized  upon  her,  and  which  must  grow 
greater  and  more  distressing  hour  by  hour  and  day  by 
day." 

She  looked  at  me,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  said  no 
more. 

"I  can't  get  hold  of  the  valve-cord,"  said  Crimrose, 
approaching;  "it's  broken  off  too  high  up;  but  that 
won't  matter,  for  I  don't  believe  you'll  want  to  let 
out  any  gas ;  in  fact,  I  think  it  will  be  prudent  for  you 
to  load  up  with  some  stones  for  ballast  so  as  to  be  sure 
you  won't  go  too  high.  Then  if  you  find  yourself  get 
ting  too  low,  you  can  throw  out  some  of  them." 

"Humph!"  said  Mrs.  Pocock;  "you  think  he'll 
want  ballast,  do  you?" 

The  radiant  Crimrose  apparently  did  not  hear  this 
contemptuous  remark.  "Before  you  start,"  said  he, 
"  I'll  go  over  there  to  that  tree  where  I  put  my  writing- 
desk,  and  add  something  to  my  letter  to  Jeannette. 
The  first  thing  I  want  you  to  do,  Harry,  when  you 
reach  land,  is  to  put  that  letter  in  the  nearest  post- 
office.  Then  you  can  attend  to  getting  a  vessel  for  us. 
Jeannette  must  be  thought  of  before  anybody  else." 

He  came  back  very  soon  to  where  Mr.  Pocock  and  I 
were  looking  for  suitable  stones  for  ballast. 

"How  are  you  going  to  carry  this  letter,  Harry?" 
said  he ;  "  put  it  in  some  pocket  where  you  will  be 


THE    WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  25 

sure  it  will  not  drop  out,  or  get  wet  if  there  should  be 
rain." 

Before  I  could  answer,  Mrs.  Pocock  spoke.  "It 
ought  to  be  sewed  up  in  a  piece  of  oiled  silk/'  she 
said;  "for  even  if  it  got  damp,  she  might  not  be  able 
to  read  it.  I've  something  that  will  be  just  the  thing. 
It's  an  oil-skin  bathing-cap  which  I  brought  in  case 
there  should  be  too  much  wind  or  rain  for  my  bonnet. 
Give  it  to  me,  and  I'll  sew  it  up  in  a  jiffy." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Crimrose,  and  handed 
her  the  letter. 

Mr.  Pocock  now  assured  me  that  I  need  feel  no 
anxiety  about  those  I  left  behind  me.  The  tide  was 
receding,  and  he  had  examined  the  boat  and  found  that 
the  water  in  her  had  not  risen  high  enough  to  wet  the 
floor  of  the  little  cabin,  so  he  and  his  wife  could  occupy 
one  of  the  compartments  that  night,  and  Mr.  Crimrose 
the  other,  and  they  would  be  just  as  comfortable  as  if 
they  had  been  at  home. 

In  half  an  hour  the  grappling-line  had  been  length 
ened,  the  ballast  put  into  the  car,  and  everything 
made  ready  for  me  to  start;  but  the  watchmaker's  wife 
had  not  yet  finished  sewing  up  the  letter  in  the  oil 
skin  cap.  Her  husband  called  to  her,  and  she  came 
running  toward  us. 

"  Here  it  is, "  she  said ;  "  and  you  may  get  soaking 
wet  yourself,  but  the  letter  will  be  all  right.  I  fast 
ened  a  string  to  the  bag  by  which  you  can  hang  it 
around  your  neck,  where  it  will  be  just  as  safe  as  if  it 
was  a  watch." 

"  If  you  want  a  good  watch, "  said  the  watchmaker, 
"  I  can  lend  you  one,  though  I  don't  know  really  that 


26  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

anything  extra  in  the  way  of  a  watch  would  be  of  ser 
vice  to  you,  not  taking  any  interest  in  the  influence  of 
altitudes  on  balance-wheels." 

I  declined  his  offer,  and  going  to  the  balloon,  clam 
bered  into  it.  The  rest  of  the  party  came  up  to  me, 
and  shook  hands  with  me  most  cordially,  wishing  me 
a  safe  and  quick  journey.  The  watchmaker's  wife 
was  the  last. 

"You  take  my  blessing  with  you,  young  man,"  said 
she,  "  and  if  ever  I  hope  that  anything  would  be  of 
good  to  anybody,  I  hope  that  may  be  of  good  to  you," 
and  I  could  see  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  pressed  my 
hand.  I  felt  in  my  heart  that  she  was  a  good  old 
woman. 

They  loosened  the  rope,  and  as  it  slipped  under  the 
root  of  the  tree,  I  began  to  rise  very  slowly.  I  saw 
that  I  had  too  much  ballast  in  the  car,  and  I  threw 
out  some  of  the  stones.  Then  I  went  up  until  the 
rope  with  the  grapnel  at  the  end  of  it  had  been  let  out 
to  its  full  length. 

"Are  you  ready?"  cried  Crimrose,  from  below. 

"  All  right, "  I  answered.  He  unhooked  the  grapnel, 
and  I  sailed  away,  free  from  every  earthly  tie. 

Clouds  were  spreading  over  the  eastern  sky,  but  it 
was  still  clear  in  the  west,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  I 
looked  out  in  the  direction  in  which  the  moderate  but 
steady  breeze  was  wafting  me,  that  I  was  slowly  drift 
ing  into  the  sunset,  and  in  my  present  state  of  mind 
that  seemed  a  very  good  place  to  drift  into.  I  did  not 
care  to  give  more  than  one  look  back  at  the  island, 
because  it  grated  upon  my  feelings  to  see  Crimrose 
standing  there  wildly  waving  his  handkerchief. 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  27 

On  and  on  I  went,  never  rising  so  high  above  the 
water  that  I  could  not  have  touched  it  with  my  grap 
pling-iron  if  I  had  let  it  down,  and  steadily  moving 
westward.  As  it  grew  darker,  I  strained  my  eyes  to 
discover  any  indications  of  the  coast,  but  I  could  see 
nothing  before  me  but  the  sky  and  the  sea,  still  touched 
with  the  fading  yellow  and  pink. 

I  now  opened  the  basket  which  Mrs.  Pocock  had  put 
into  the  car,  and  found  that  she  had  provided  for  me 
somewhat  at  the  expense  of  those  I  had  left  behind. 
It  contained  our  only  remaining  bottle  of  wine  and  the 
whole  of  a  chicken,  besides  a  jar  of  marmalade  which 
I  thought  would  be  very  much  missed  by  Crimrose. 

I  made  a  good  supper,  and  determining  to  follow 
the  example  of  the  watchmaker's  wife,  I  made  myself 
comfortable  in  the  bottom  of  the  car.  There  was  noth 
ing  else  to  do ;  for  the  dark  night  was  now  fast  settling 
about  me,  and  when  I  last  looked  over  the  side  of  the 
car  I  could  scarcely  see  the  glimmer  of  the  water  below 
me. 

I  hoped  that  nothing  would  happen  to  me,  and  that 
I  would  safely  reach  land  and  perform  my  mission, 
but  I  could  not  prevent  the  thought  coming  to  me  that 
if  I  should  slowly  sink  into  the  sea,  or  should  disap 
pear  into  the  black  sky  above  me,  it  would  be  a  great 
relief  to  a  soul,  troubled  without  reason,  but  still  sadly 
troubled.  I  did  not  sleep  much  ;  in  fact,  the  night  was 
passed  in  a  succession  of  broken  naps.  Sometimes  the 
car  swayed  disagreeably,  and  frequently  it  would  seem 
to  suddenly  sink  beneath  me,  making  me  feel  as  if  I 
were  sitting  011  a  chair  whose  legs  were  giving  way. 
Once  I  awoke  with  a  start,  and  found  that  I  was  wet 


28  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

and  that  water  was  splashing  about  me.  It  took  but 
a  second  to  comprehend  that  the  car  was  close  to  the 
sea,  sometimes  brushing  the  tops  of  the  waves.  In 
stantly  I  threw  over  all  the  stones  that  remained  in 
the  car,  and  as  the  water  splashed  up  over  me,  I  for 
the  first  time  shuddered  with  fear.  But  now  I  rose 
clear  of  the  sea,  and  though  I  sat  and  peered  down 
with  eager  watchfulness,  I  did  not  approach  it  again 
for  a  long  time.  With  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn  I 
could  see  the  waves  again.  They  were  not  very  far 
below  me,  and  turning  to  see  how  I  could  further 
lighten  the  balloon,  I  threw  out  my  basket  of  provis 
ions.  Then  I  rose  again,  but  it  was  not  long  before  I 
began  to  settle  down  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  water. 
It  was  plain  that  the  gas  was,  in  some  way  or  the 
other,  oozing  out  of  the  balloon.  As  the  daylight 
became  stronger,  I  was  positive  that  I  could  see  to  the 
west  indications  of  a  line  of  coast.  If  I  could  but 
keep  the  balloon  in  the  air  for  only  an  hour  more,  it 
might  carry  me  to  land.  The  grapnel  was  a  heavy 
thing  5  I  drew  it  in,  untied  it,  and  dropped  it  into  the 
sea.  This  helped  a  little,  but  I  soon  saw  that  the  car 
needed  further  lightening,  and  I  threw  out  the  whole 
coil  of  grappling-rope.  This  sent  up  both  the  balloon 
and  my  heart;  and  as  the  breeze  was  now  very  much 
stronger  than  when  I  started,  I  rapidly  approached  the 
land.  All  desire  to  melt  into  the  sea  or  the  sky  had 
now  disappeared,  and  I  watched  the  approaching  shore 
with  feverish  anxiety.  I  was  drawing  near  to  what 
seemed  to  be  the  mouth  of  a  river  or  narrow  inlet,  but 
I  was  also  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  surface  of 
the  sea,  and  there  was  nothing  else  to  throw  out. 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  29 

It  was  not  long  before  I  hung  barely  six  feet  above 
the  water,  and  then  I  saw  that  the  balloon  must  be 
lightened  or  I  should  never  reach  the  land  alive.  I 
quickly  cut  five  or  six  of  the  cords  on  opposite  sides 
of  the  car  and  tied  them  together,  then,  clambering 
upon  the  loop  thus  made,  I  cut  the  remaining  cords 
and  let  the  car  drop.  This  resulted  in  a  grand  rise 
into  the  air,  and  I  did  not  come  down  again  until  I 
was  over  the  marshy  banks  of  a  little  river.  This  was 
not  at  all  a  good  place  to  land,  for  with  the  exception 
of  a  hummock  here  and  there,  there  was  nothing  solid 
enough  for  a  foothold.  As  I  slowly  came  down  I 
loAvered  myself  from  the  loop  in  which  I  had  been 
sitting,  and  suspended  myself  from  it  by  my  hands. 
Then,  as  soon  as  I  approached  a  hummock  I  put  my 
foot  on  it,  and  gave  a  spring.  This  sent  me  up,  and 
the  wind  carried  me  forward,  and  I  covered  in  my  first 
leap  of  the  sort  some  twenty  or  thirty  feet.  Again 
and  again  I  repeated  this  action,  sometimes  failing  to 
strike  a  hummock  or  bunch  of  grass,  but  even  a  kick 
into  the  water  and  mud  sent  me  up  a  little,  and  after 
many  efforts  and  some  fruitless  splashing  I  passed  the 
marsh  and  reached  solid  ground. 

Here  my  first  impulse  was  to  let  go  of  the  balloon, 
but  on  second  thoughts  I  decided  not  to  release  it  yet. 
Before  me  lay  a  long  stretch  of  sandy  dunes  which  I 
must  cross,  and  as  I  stood,  my  feet  lightly  pressing 
the  ground,  and  the  balloon  steadily  pulling  at  me  so 
that  I  could  not  stand  still,  I  determined  to  make  still 
further  use  of  it.  With  a  run  and  a  vigorous  spring 
I  cleared  nearly  a  dozen  yards.  My  arms  were  tired, 
but  the  motion  was  exhilarating;  I  bounded  like  a 


SO  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

hare  or  a  kangaroo.  In  a  wonderfully  short  time  I 
had  gone  over  a  mile  or  two  of  waste  land,  and  saw 
before  me  a  house,  with  a  man  hurrying  out  of  the 
door. 

As  I  neared  the  house  I  made  a  bound  which  carried 
me  easily  over  a  fence,  and  the  man  stood  looking  at 
me  in  dumb  amazement.  My  arms  now  began  to  feel 
as  if  they  would  be  torn  from  my  body,  and  I  shouted 
to  him  to  come  quickly  to  cut  the  silk  in  the  balloon. 
My  respect  for  the  Pococks  made  me  anxious  to  save 
it,  at  least  what  was  left  of  it,  if  it  were  possible. 

The  man  comprehended  the  situation,  and  as  I  held 
back,  he  ran  up  and  made  a  long  gash  in  the  balloon 
as  high  as  he  could  reach,  and  then  he  took  hold  of 
the  rope  to  help  me  hold  it.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
great  silken  folds  were  flopping  on  the  ground. 

I  was  nearly  exhausted  with  excitement  and  fatigue, 
but  the  man  and  his  wife  gave  me  a  warm  breakfast, 
and  I  told  my  tale,  frequently  interrupted  by  their 
exclamations  of  astonishment.  In  return,  the  man, 
who  was  a  small  coast  farmer,  informed  me  that  he 
knew  the  island  on  which  we  had  been  cast,  and  that 
if  he  had  anything  but  a  row-boat  he  would  be  glad  to 
go  out  and  rescue  my  companions,  but  there  was  no 
one  in  the  neighborhood  who  owned  a  sail-boat  large 
enough  for  such  a  trip  except  Captain  Archibald 
Wharton,  who  lived  about  a  mile  up  the  coast.  He 
had  a  big  fishing-boat. 

Together  we  went  to  the  fisherman's  house.  We 
found  Captain  Archie,  as  he  was  called,  but  at  first  he 
would  not  believe  the  tale  I  told  him.  However, 
when  my  companion  asserted  that  he  had  seen  me 


THE   WATCHMAKERS    WIFE  31 

arrive  with  the  balloon,  the  fisherman  was  obliged  to 
give  faith  to  that  much  of  the  story;  and  as  the  rest 
could  be  no  more  fabulous,  he  expressed  his  willing 
ness  to  do  what  he  could  to  bring  in  my  companions. 
But  his  boat  was  not  at  home ;  it  had  been  hired  to  a 
fisherman  down  the  coast,  who  would  not  return  with 
it  until  that  evening,  and  then,  of  course,  he  could 
not  start  out  at  night.  He  was  opposed  to  working 
on  Sunday;  but  he  said  that  if  his  boat  got  in  in  time, 
he  would  start  out  the  next  day  and  would  probably 
bring  my  friends  to  land  before  nightfall.  I  had 
hoped  to  get  a  boat  to  go  immediately  to  the  island, 
but  as  there  was  nothing  better  to  be  done,  I  arranged 
with  Captain  Archie,  paying  him  a  part  of  his  price 
in  advance  in  order  to  hold  him  to  his  bargain ;  and 
then  having  done  all  that  I  could  in  this  line,  I 
inquired  for  the  nearest  railroad  station.  This  was 
five  miles  away,  but  my  friend,  the  farmer,  agreed  to 
take  me  over  in  his  wagon,  also  promising  to  keep  the 
balloon  safely  until  it  was  called  for. 

I  did  not  mail  Crimrose's  letter  to  Jeannette;  for  I 
reflected  as  this  was  Saturday  and  there  would  be  no 
mails  to-morrow,  she  would  not  receive  the  letter  until 
Monday.  So  I  determined  to  take  it  to  her  myself. 
This  would  suit  me  in  every  way,  for  my  home,  as 
well  as  hers,  was  in  Boston. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when  I 
reached  the  city,  and  at  first  I  thought  I  would  go 
home  to  array  myself  in  attire  more  suitable  to  the 
occasion  than  the  rough  yachting-suit  smeared  with 
the  mud  of  the  marsh.  But  all  this  would  take  time, 
and  I  went  immediately  to  deliver  my  letter  to  Jean- 


32  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

nette ;  and  as  I  knew  she  would  want  to  know  every 
thing  about  our  mishap,  I  asked  to  see  her.  She  came 
into  the  room  with  outstretched  hand.  If  she  had 
been  anxious  or  troubled,  it  had  made  her  look  lovelier. 

"What  has  happened!"  she  exclaimed,  gazing  at 
my  untidy  figure;  "has  there  been  an  accident?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "but  nobody  has  been  hurt,  and  I 
bring  you  a  letter  from  Mr.  Crimrose." 

I  took  from  my  breast  pocket  the  oil-skin  cap  of 
the  watchmaker's  wife,  and  removing  the  string  from 
around  my  neck  I  handed  the  package  to  Jeannette. 

"You  can  rip  it  open  better  than  I  can,"  I  said. 

Jeannette  laughed.  "What  a  funny  little  mail- 
bag,"  she  said.  And  before  she  would  even  attempt 
to  open  it  she  made  me  tell  her  the  whole  history  of 
our  adventure. 

I  made  the  narrative  as  short  as  I  could,  touching 
very  lightly  upon  my  homeward  balloon  trip.  Jean 
nette  then  opened  the  bag,  saying  that  when  she  had 
read  her  letter  she  would  want  to  ask  me  some  ques 
tions  about  myself  and  the  balloon. 

I  could  not  sit  and  look  at  her  read  Crimrose's 
letter.  During  all  the  time  I  had  been  talking 
to  her  there  had  been  growing  on  my  mind  the  feeling 
that  after  all  it  was  a  pity  that  I  had  been  able  to 
lighten  the  balloon.  The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and 
Crimrose  would  probably  be  in  Boston  that  night. 
He  would  see  her  on  Monday  and  Tuesday,  and  011 
Wednesday  they  would  be  married.  I  turned  away 
from  Jeannette,  took  up  a  book,  and  gazed  steadfastly 
at  its  pages. 

"  Two !  "  she  said  presently,  in  a  tone  of  some  sur- 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  33 

prise,  and  then  for  a  minute  I  heard  nothing  but  the 
rustling  of  paper.  Then  there  was  another  little 
exclamation,  and  I  heard  the  cutting  of  a  second 
envelope.  In  a  few  minutes  I  heard  Jeannette  sud 
denly  push  back  her  chair.  I  looked  and  saw  her 
standing,  her  face  flushed,  and  an  open  letter  in  her 
hand.  Then,  without  looking  at  me,  she  quickly 
turned  toward  the  door  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

If  Crimrose,  instead  of  adding  to  the  letter  he  had 
already  prepared,  had  sent  another  (which  was  natural 
enough,  for  he  must  have  had  a  good  deal  to  say), 
what  could  he  have  put  into  his  second  epistle  which 
would  have  caused  Jeannette  to  treat  me  with  such 
abrupt  discourtesy? 

She  may  not  have  comprehended  the  fact  that  I  had 
risked  my  life  to  bring  her  those  letters,  but  she  must 
ha^e  understood  that  my  service  was  not  a  common 
one,  and  nothing  her  lover  could  have  said  to  her 
should  have  made  her  forget  that  at  least  I  merited 
ordinary  civility. 

I  waited  some  time  and  then  I  rang  the  bell  and 
sent  to  ask  if  Miss  Collins  had  any  further  commands 
for  me.  The  servant  soon  returned  with  the  message 
that  her  mistress  asked  to  be  excused  from  coming 
down.  Feeling  very  much  like  a  dog  who  had  been 
kicked  out  of  doors,  I  went  home. 

I  was  angry  and  hurt,  and  came  to  the  very  sensible 
determination  to  travel  and  separate  myself  as  much 
as  possible  from  the  causes  of  my  pain  and  humilia 
tion.  But  I  did  not  start  on  the  next  day  as  I  had 
intended,  nor  did  I  go  on  the  day  following;  a  good 
reason  for  my  delay  was  my  desire  to  hear  something 


34  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

about  the  party  I  had  left  on  the  island.  I  could  not 
go  from  Boston  without  knowing  whether  or  not  they 
had  been  safely  brought  to  the  mainland.  I  expected 
that  Crimrose  would  write  or  telegraph  to  me  as  soon 
as  he  found  it  possible,  but  I  heard  nothing  until  I 
saw,  in  an  afternoon  paper  on  Monday,  a  short  account 
of  the  adventure,  which  stated  that  Captain  Wharton 
had  brought  away  the  desert  islanders  on  Sunday 
evening.  I  was  quite  sure  that  Crimrose  wrote  this 
account,  because  it  was  in  his  style,  and  contained  but 
a  slight  reference  to  my  balloon  trip,  about  which  he, 
of  course,  knew  but  little. 

The  next  morning  Crimrose  came  to  see  me,  and 
explained  his  not  writing  by  saying  that  he  had  been 
very  much  pressed  for  time  and  knew  that  I  would 
see  the  account  in  the  paper.  He  did  not  seem  to  be 
pressed  for  time  now,  for  he  made  himself  comfortable 
in  a  large  chair  and  lighted  a  cigar.  This  surprised 
me,  for  he  was  nearly  always  in  a  hurry,  and  I  asked 
him  if  he  had  already  finished  the  business  which 
had  made  it  so  important  for  him  to  get  back  to 
Boston. 

"  Oh !  "  said  he,  "  you  mean  preparing  to  be  married. 
The  wedding  is  postponed." 

"Postponed!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  said  he;  "it  was  simply  impossible  for  me 
to  get  ready  in  the  little  time  I  had.  You  haven't  any 
idea  what  I  have  to  do.  I  can  do  as  much  in  a  short 
time  as  any  man  can,  but  it  is  ridiculous  to  attempt 
the  impossible." 

"And  Miss  Collins!"  I  cried;  "what  does  she 
think  of  this  ?  " 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  35 

"  Oh,  she  does  not  mind  it,"  said  Crimrose;  "  I  don't 
believe  she's  ready:  women  never  are.  Anyway,  she 
agrees  to  the  postponement." 

"For  how  long?"  I  asked. 

"  For  about  a  week,  perhaps,  but  it  isn't  quite  settled 
yet.  The  fact  is,  Miss  Collins  is  a  good  deal  upset  by 
the  dangers  to  which  I  have  been  exposed,  and  she  does 
not  seem  to  be  able  to  get  her  mind  down  to  business. 
Moreover,  — and  I  don't  mind  saying  this  to  you,  as 
you  are  an  old  friend,  —  she  seems  to  be  beset  with  a 
desire  to  ask  questions.  Never  in  my  life  have  I 
passed  through  such  an  inquisition.  I  hate  answer 
ing  questions  and  always  did.  There  was  not  an 
incident  of  that  wretched  adventure  that  she  did  not 
want  to  know,  and  afterward  to  find  out  its  causes  and 
effects  and  everything  about  it.  I  suppose  this  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at,  for  she  is  naturally  nervous, 
and  it  is  a  very  good  thing  that  we  agreed  to  post 
pone  the  wedding.  She  is  not  in  a  state  of  mind  for 
it  now.  Twelve  o'clock!  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so 
late,  and  I  have  an  engagement  at  half-past." 

As  there  was  to  be  no  wedding  on  the  next  day,  I 
did  not  leave  Boston.  I  spent  several  days  in  a  very 
unpleasant  state  of  mind.  There  constantly  arose 
within  me  a  desire  to  kill  Crimrose;  but  as  there  was 
really  nothing  to  justify  the  attempt,  I  endeavored  to 
smother  this  desire.  It  was  plain  that  my  friend  had 
no  suspicion  of  my  feelings  toward  him,  for  on  Satur 
day  he  called  on  me,  valise  in  hand. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  I  said,  pushing  back  from 
my  breakfast-table. 

"I  take  the  eleven  o'clock  train  for  Quebec,"  he 


36  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

said;  "I  want  some  bracing  air,  and  can't  wait  for  it 
here.  I  need  a  change,  anyway." 

"Quebec!  "  I  exclaimed;  "but  you  can't  get  back  by 
Wednesday." 

"  Of  course  not, "  said  he.  "  Oh,  I  see.  That's  post 
poned  again." 

"  Postponed  again !  "  I  cried,  rising  to  my  feet. 

"Oh  yes,"  he  answered.  "The  fact  is  neither  of 
us  is  ready  for  it.  The  engagement  is  —  well  —  I 
may  say  prolonged  or  perhaps  —  well,  as  you  will 
probably  get  varying  accounts,  I  will  state  plainly 
that  the  engagement  is  set  aside  for  the  present. 
Miss  Collins  is  —  well,  she  has  not  treated  me  well. 
She  has  put  interrogations  and  made  statements  that 
a  man  of  spirit  cannot  submit  to.  Of  course  I  do 
not  wish  to  say  anything  against  her,  but  I  cannot 
marry  anybody  in  the  frame  of  mind  in  which  Miss 
Collins  is  at  present.  All  this  of  course  is  —  " 

"  Crimrose !  "  I  cried,  advancing  toward  him,  "  are 
you  playing  false  to  Miss  Collins?  Are  you  daring 
to  trifle  — " 

"  Stop !  Stop !  "  said  he ;  "  don't  work  yourself  into 
a  passion.  It  isn't  any  affair  of  yours,  anyway,  but 
I  don't  mind  telling  you,  since  you  are  getting  so 
excited  about  it,  that  I  hadn't  anything  to  do  with 
laying  this  affair  on  the  table.  She  put  the  motion, 
and  as  she  has  ever  so  many  more  voices  than  I  have, 
it  was  carried.  But  it  is  satisfactory  all  around,  and 
when  we  reopen  the  matter  we  will  begin  afresh. 
Good  by;  I  will  see  you  before  long." 

I  did  not  answer,  for  my  head  was  in  a  whirl. 
Some  time  during  the  morning  I  went  to  take  a  walk, 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  37 

but  I  know  I  did  not  finish  my  breakfast.  For  days  I 
was  as  a  ship  which,  without  compass  or  rudder  or 
sails,  drifts  in  a  calm.  I  did  not  know  what  I  did 
or  why  I  did  it  instead  of  doing  something  else. 

At  last  I  had  a  visit,  and  this  was  well;  for  if  no 
one  had  come  to  see  me,  I  would  have  seen  nobody. 
My  visitor  was  the  watchmaker's  wife,  and  at  first  I 
did  not  recognize  her,  nor  after  we  had  shaken  hands 
did  I  remember  her  name  until  she  mentioned  it. 

" I  have  been  trying  for  a  good  while,'7  she  said, 
"  to  find  your  address  so  that  Mr.  Pocock  or  me  could 
come  to  see  you  or  write  to  you.  We  want  to  pay 
you  our  share  of  the  money  you  gave  Captain  Wharton 
in  advance  for  going  after  us." 

At  this  it  struck  me  that  Crimrose  had  not  offered 
to  pay  his  portion  of  said  money. 

"And  more  than  that,"  the  old  lady  continued, 
"  we  want  to  tell  you  how  greatly  obliged  we  are  to 
you  for  doing  what  you  did  and  sending  a  boat  for  us, 
and  how  thankful  we  are  that  you  got  over  safe  and 
sound.  I  could  not  sleep  that  night  for  thinking  of 
you  hanging  under  that  half-empty  balloon.  But  I 
don't  believe  I  would  have  found  where  you  lived  if 
it  had  not  been  for  Miss  Collins.  I  knew  her  address, 
for  I  saw  it  on  Mr.  Crimrose  Js  letter  and  remembered 
it." 

"And  you  have  seen  her!  "  I  exclaimed. 

"Oh  yes,  yes,"  said  the  old  lady,  looking  down  in 
her  lap  as  she  smoothed  one  mittened  hand  with  the 
fingers  of  the  other;  "I  have  seen  her  and  had  a  long 
talk  with  her,  and  have  heard  all  about  the  breaking 
off  of  the  engagement." 


38  THE   WATCHMAKERS   WIFE 

"Breaking  off!  "  I  exclaimed;  "  is  it  entirely  broken 
off?" 

"Oh  yes,  yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Pocock;  "and  I  am 
sure  it  is  a  great  blessing  for  which  everybody  ought 
to  be  thankful.  If  she  had  married  that  Crimrose 
man,  my  very  heart  would  have  bled  for  her.  I  did 
not  know  him  long,  but  I  saw  enough  of  him  to  un 
derstand  him  through  and  through.  It  did  not  need 
anything  more  than  to  hear  what  he  said  when  he 
found  out  that  I  had  given  you  that  cold  chicken 
and  the  jar  of  marmalade.  Goodness!  I  could  have 
thrown  a  tea-kettle  at  him.  But  it's  all  right  now, 
it's  all  right  now." 

"But  Miss  Collins,"  I  asked;  "what  does  she  think 
of  it?" 

"That's  hard  to  say,"  answered  the  old  lady; 
"that's  pretty  hard  to  say;  but  of  course  she's  glad  the 
match  is  broken  off,  because  now  she  knows  Crimrose 
as  well  as  I  do;  but  it's  natural  enough  that  she 
should  be  a  good  deal  upset;  anybody  would  be  in  a 
case  like  that,  and  I  think  it  is  the  duty  of  her  friends 
to  go  and  cheer  her  up.  You,  sir,  for  instance,  if 
you  was  to  go  and  see  her  and  talk  to  her  cheerfully 
and  tell  her  all  about  your  balloon  trip,  —  that  I  know 
she  wants  to  hear  about,  none  of  us  having  been  able 
to  tell  her  anything  of  it  except  the  starting,  —  it 
would  do  her  a  lot  of  good." 

"I  go  to  see  her!"  I  exclaimed;  "do  you  know, 
madam  —  "  and  then  I  hesitated.  But  though  a  com 
parative  stranger,  the  old  lady  was  so  sympathetic  and 
so  kind,  that  I  went  on,  "  Do  you  know  that  she  treated 
me  rudely  when  I  was  there  last,  and  declined  to  see 
me  when  I  left?" 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  39 

"Oh  don't  mind  that,"  said  Mrs.  Pocock;  "don't 
mind  that.  She  told  me  all  about  that.  You  ought 
not  to  take  any  notice  of  it  at  all.  The  letters  you 
brought  her  upset  her  to  a  degree  that  it  made  her  lose 
control  of  herself.  You  see  I  —  I  mean  it  wasn't 
expected  that  she  should  read  her  letters  when  you  or 
anybody  was  by.  You  mustn't  think  of  that  at  all. 
I  know  all  about  it.  It  wasn't  any  feeling  against 
you  that  made  her  act  that  way.  Go  to  see  her,  and 
you  will  find  out  that  it  wasn't.  She  will  treat  you 
just  as  polite  as  ever  she  did,  and  it's  your  duty  to  go, 
sir ;  for  I  know  she  looks  upon  you  as  one  of  her  best 
friends,  for  she  told  me  so  herself." 

When  Mrs.  Pocock  left  me  she  urged  me,  if  ever  I 
happened  to  be  near  Barnville,  to  step  in  and  see  her 
and  Mr.  Pocock :  they  would  be  so  glad  to  see  me,  and 
the  village  was  not  half  an  hour  from  Boston. 

It  was  an  early  hour  for  a  call  when,  the  next  morn 
ing,  I  presented  myself  at  Miss  Collins's  door;  but  I 
was  admitted,  and  turning  over  in  my  mind  everything 
that  I  thought  would  amuse  and  interest  her  in  the 
story  of  my  adventure  without  agitating  her  nerves  or 
causing  her  to  think  that  I  was  trying  to  make  a  hero 
of  myself,  I  awaited  her  coming. 

Jeannette  was  not  at  her  ease  with  me,  but  this  was 
not  to  be  wondered  at,  considering  how  intimate  I  had 
been  with  her  and  with  Crimrose ;  but  as  the  watch 
maker's  wife  had  told  me,  she  had  no  unfriendly 
feelings  toward  me,  and,  in  fact,  apologized  for  having 
left  me  so  abruptly  when  I  had  called  before.  It  was 
a  sudden  nervous  attack,  she  said,  and  I  could  readily 
understand  that  if  Crimrose  had  behaved  as  badly  as 


40  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

he  must  have  done  to  justify  her  breaking  oft'  the 
engagement,  he  had  probably  put  something  into  his 
letters  which  had  shocked  the  poor  girl.  It  might  be 
that  I  would  yet  kill  Crimrose,  for  a  more  beautiful 
woman  than  Jeannette  never  lived,  nor  one  more 
worthy  to  have  villains  slain  in  her  behalf. 

After  a  little  while  Jeannette 's  stiffness  wore  off, 
and  I  told  her  everything  about  my  balloon  trip.  She 
was  so  interested'  and  so  beautiful  that  I  did  not  even 
omit  the  washing  of  the  waves  in  the  darkness,  against 
the  bottom  of  the  car,  and  my  dreadful  fears  in  the 
morning,  that  even  in  sight  of  the  land,  the  balloon 
would  be  too  weak  to  hold  me  up,  and  I  should  sink 
helpless  into  the  sea.  There  was  moisture  in  her 
eyes,  her  lips  were  parted,  and  she  leaned  forward  to 
look  at  me. 

"  Oh !  how  could  you  dare  all  that?  "  she  said ;  "  you 
must  have  known  the  dangers.  How  did  you  have 
the  courage  to  float  out  in  that  way  into  the  dreadful 
mysteries  of  the  night  and  the  sea?  " 

I  could  not  help  the  answer  that  came  to  my  lips. 

"I  did  it  for  you,"  I  said. 

Slipping  thus  from  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  down 
I  went. 

"It  is  dreadful,"  said  Jeannette,  five  minutes  after 
ward,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  half  laughing;  "you 
shouldn't  have  spoken  so  soon.  It  seems  like  — 

"Never  mind,"  said  I,  checking  her;  "it  could  not 
be  helped,  and  I  wish  I  had  spoken  a  year  ago." 

"I  wish  you  had,"  whispered  Jeannette. 

It  was  at  least  half  an  hour  after  this,  that  among 
all  the  wonders  of  this  new  heavenly  world  which  I 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  41 

had  just  entered,  nothing  surprised  me  more  than  that 
she  should  have  been  so  little  surprised  when  I  had 
opened  my  heart  to  her. 

"How  could  I  be/'  said  she,  "after  the  letter  you 
brought  me?" 

"  Letter !  »  I  cried ;  "  did  Crimrose  —  " 

"Crimrose!"  she  said;  "  what  utter  nonsense !  But 
I  see  that  you  know  nothing.  I  will  get  you  the  letter 
which  gave  me  the  nervous  shock." 

She  brought  it ;  it  ran  thus :  — 

Miss  JEANNETTE  COLLINS  :  — 

My.  dear  young  lady :  I  am  a  married  woman  whose  husband, 
Sylvester  Pocock,  does  business  in  Barnville,  and  is  known  all 
over  that  country,  and  I  have  been  cast  away  on  an  island  in  a 
way  that*  I  haven't  time  to  tell  you  about,  but  of  which  you 
will  soon  hear  all  the  particulars.  I  am  in  a  great  hurry,  having 
to  write  secretly  and  unobserved,  and  without  stopping  to  mince 
matters  I  beg  and  implore  you  with  all  the  earnestness,  which 
one  woman  who  knows  what  true  love  is,  can  appeal  with  to  one 
who  I  believe  doesn't,  not  having  had  a  fair  chance,  not  to 
man  y  Mr.  Crimrose,  not,  at  least,  until  you  have  a  chance  to 
think  over  things  after  what  I  tell  you.  That  feather-bed  of  a 
Crimrose  is  not  the  man  who  really  loves  you.  I  have  so  little 
time  that  I  have  to  speak  strong;  he  is  a  selfish  brute  and  loves 
nobody  but  himself.  Take  time  to  try  him,  my  dear  young 
lady,  and  you  will  find  that  out  for  yourself.  Mr.  Elliot,  the 
gentleman  who  will  bring  you  this,  if  you  ever  get  it,  is  the 
man  who  truly  loves  you.  I  have  so  little  time  that  I  am 
obliged  to  put  things  strong.  He  doesn't  know  it,  but  I  have 
found  out  that  he  loves  you  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart, 
that  he  would  cast  himself  into  the  middle  of  the  sea  to  save 
you  from  one  sleepless  night,  and  so  far  as  anybody  can  tell,  he 
may  do  it.  He  is  going  to  risk  his  life  to  keep  you  from  being 
worried  and  anxious. 

He  is  the  modestest  man  and  the  best  friend  that  I  have  ever 


42  THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE 

met  in  all  my  life,  and  I  say  boldly,  without  caring  what  happens 
or  what  people  think  of  me,  that  if  you  marry  Crirnrose  instead 
of  Elliot,  you  will  make  a  mistake  that  will  bring  you  years  of 
misery.  I  can't  make  this  strong  enough,  for  I  haven't  time  and 
don't  know  how;  but,  my  dear  young  lady,  I  beg  and  implore 
you,  stop  long  enough  to  give  your  true  lover  a  chance.  I  have 
given  you  warning,  look  into  the  matter  yourself.  Mr.  Elliot 
has  loved  you  for  ever  so  long,  and  Crimrose  never  can  do  it;  it 
isn't  in  him. 

Nobody  knows  I  am  writing  this,  and  it  may  be  drowned  in 
the  sea  with  the  noble  young  man  who  risks  his  life  to  take  it 
to  you.  It  is  all  mixed  up,  and  you  may  think  it's  strong,  but  it 
comes  from  the  heart  of  a  woman  who  doesn't  want  to  see  any 
other  woman,  even  a  total  stranger,  make  the  mistake  that  you 
are  on  the  brink  of. 

Yours  in  haste, 

SARAH  POCOCK. 

I  stood  aghast.  "And  this,"  I  exclaimed,  "was 
the  second  letter !  " 

"Of  course,"  said  Jeannette. 

"  And  you  —  knew  —  " 

"I  expected,  —  I  could  not  be  certain,"  said  Jean 
nette  demurely.  "  I  had  suspected  something  of  the 
sort  long  ago,  and  in  a  manner  had  expected  —  but 
nothing  ever  happened." 

"  Bless  that  watchmaker's  wife !  "  said  I. 

On  the  first  day  that  I  could  get  an  hour  or  two  to 
spare,  I  went  to  Barnville,  and,  without  any  trouble, 
found  Mr.  Pocock's  shop.  Pocock  is  a  good  man,  and 
he  had  sense  enough  to  stay  in  the  shop  while  I  sat  in 
the  little  back  parlor  and  talked  to  his  wife.  It  was 
a  long  interview,  and  very  warm  on  both  sides,  but 
she  was  such  an  elderly  person  no  one  could  object  to 
that. 


THE   WATCHMAKER'S   WIFE  43 

"  Well, "  said  she,  as  I  was  leaving,  and  she  stood 
holding  me  by  the  hand,  "it  gladdens  my  heart  to 
think  that  there  is  to  be  another  true,  loving  couple 
in  this  world.  And  I  am  sure  I  ought  to  feel  so,  for 
it  is  very  seldom  that  a  woman  has  had  the  chance 
that  I  have  had  of  making  two  men  happy." 

"Two  men?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  she;  "you  and  Mr.  Pocock." 


ASAPH 


ABOUT  a  hundred  feet  back  from  the  main  street 
of  a  village  in  New  Jersey  there  stood  a  very 
good  white  house.  Halfway  between  it  and  the  side 
walk  was  a  large  chestnut  tree,  which  had  been  the 
pride  of  Mr.  Himes,  who  built  the  house,  and  was 
now  the  pride  of  Mrs.  Himes,  his  widow,  who  lived 
there. 

Under  the  tree  was  a  bench  and  on  the  bench  were 
two  elderly  men,  both  smoking  pipes,  and  each  one  of 
them  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees. 
One  of  these,  Thomas  Rooper  by  name,  was  a  small 
man  with  gray  side  whiskers,  a  rather  thin  face,  and 
very  good  clothes.  His  pipe  was  a  meerschaum, 
handsomely  colored,  with  a  long  amber  tip.  He  had 
bought  that  pipe  while  on  a  visit  to  Philadelphia 
during  the  great  Centennial  Exposition;  and  if  any  one 
noticed  it  and  happened  to  remark  what  a  fine  pipe  it 
was,  that  person  would  be  likely  to  receive  a  detailed 
account  of  the  circumstances  of  its  purchase,  with  an 
appendix  relating  to  the  Main  building,  the  Art  build 
ing,  the  Agricultural  building,  and  many  other  salient 
points  of  the  great  Exposition  which  commemorated 
the  centennial  of  our  national  independence. 

44 


ASAPH  45 

The  other  man,  Asaph  Scantle,  was  of  a  different 
type.  He  was  a  little  older  than  his  companion,  but 
if  his  hair  were  gray  it  did  not  show  very  much,  as  his 
rather  long  locks  were  of  a  sandy  hue  and  his  full  face 
was  clean  shaven,  at  least  on  Wednesdays  and  Sun 
days.  He  was  tall,  round-shouldered,  and  his  clothes 
were  not  good,  possessing  very  evident  claims  to  a 
position  on  the  retired  list.  His  pipe  consisted  of  a 
common  clay  bowl  with  a  long  reed  stem. 

For  some  minutes  the  two  men  continued  to  puff 
together  as  if  they  were  playing  a  duet  upon  tobacco 
pipes,  and  then  Asaph,  removing  his  reed  from  his 
lips,  remarked,  "  What  you  ought  to  do,  Thomas,  is  to 
marry  money." 

"There's  sense  in  that,"  replied  the  other;  "but 
you  wasn't  the  first  to  think  of  it." 

Asaph,  who  knew  very  well  that  Mr.  Eooper  never 
allowed  any  one  to  suppose  that  he  received  sugges 
tions  from  without,  took  no  notice  of  the  last  remark, 
but  went  on:  "Lookin'  at  the  matter  in  a  friendly 
way,  it  seems  to  me  it  stands  to  reason  that  when  the 
shingles  on  a  man's  house  is  so  rotten  that  the  rain 
comes  through  into  every  room  on  the  top  floor,  and 
when  the  plaster  on  the  ceilin'  is  tumblin'  down  more 
or  less  all  the  time  and  the  window  sashes  is  all  loose, 
and  things  generally  in  a  condition  that  he  can't  let 
that  house  without  spendin'  at  least  a  year's  rent  on 
it  to  git  it  into  decent  order,  and  when  a  man's  got  to 
the  time  of  life  —  " 

"There's  nothin'  the  matter  with  the  time  of  life," 
said  Thomas;  "that's  all  right." 

"What  I  was  go  in'  to  say  was,"  continued  Asaph. 


46  ASAPH 

"  that  when  a  man  gits  to  the  time  of  life  when  he 
knows  what  it  is  to  be  comfortable  in  his  mind  as  well 
as  his  body,  and  that  time  comes  to  sensible  people  as 
soon  as  they  git  fairly  growed  up,  he  don't  want  to 
give  up  his  good  room  in  the  tavern  and  all  the  privi 
leges  of  the  house,  and  go  to  live  on  his  own  property 
and  have  the  plaster  come  down  on  his  own  head  and 
the  rain  come  doAvn  on  the  coverlet  of  his  own 
bed." 

"No,  he  don't,'7  said  Thomas;  "and  what  is  more, 
he  isn't  go  in'  to  do  it.  But  what  I  git  from  the  rent 
of  that  house  is  what  I  have  to  live  on;  there's  no 
gittin'  around  that  pint." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Asaph,  "if  you  don't  marry 
money,  what  are  you  goin'  to  do?  You  can't  go  back 
to  your  old  business." 

"I  never  had  but  one  business,"  said  Thomas.  "I 
lived  with  my  folks  until  I  was  a  good  deal  more  than 
growed  up;  and  when  the  war  broke  out  I  went  as 
sutler  to  the  rigiment  from  this  place;  and  all  the 
money  I  made  I  put  into  my  property  in  the  village 
here.  That's  what  I've  lived  on  ever  since.  There's 
no  more  war,  so  there's  no  more  sutlers,  except  away 
out  West  where  I  wouldn't  go;  and  there  are  no  more 
folks,  for  they  are  all  dead;  and  if  what  Mrs.  McJim- 
sey  says  is  true,  there'll  be  no  more  tenants  in  my 
house  after  the  first  of  next  November.  For  when  the 
McJimseys  go  on  account  of  want  of  general  repairs, 
it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  anybody  else  will  come 
there.  There's  nobody  in  this  place  that  can  stand 
as  much  as  the  McJimseys  can." 

"Consequently,"  said  Asaph,  deliberately  filling  his 


ASAPH  47 

pipe,  "  it  stands  to  reason  that  there  ain't  nothin'  for 
you  to  do  but  marry  money." 

Thomas  Hooper  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and 
sat  up  straight.  Gazing  steadfastly  at  his  companion, 
he  remarked,  "  If  you  think  that  is  such  a  good  thing 
to  do,  why  don't  you  do  it  yourself?  There  can't  be 
anybody  much  harder  up  than  you  are." 

"The  law's  agin'  my  do  in'  it,"  said  Asaph.  "A 
man  can't  marry  his  sister." 

"Are  you  thinkin'  of  Marietta  Himes?"  asked  Mr. 
Hooper. 

" That's  the  one  I'm  thinkin'  of,"  said  Asaph.  " If 
you  can  think  of  anybody  better,  I'd  like  you  to  men 
tion  her." 

Mr.  Hooper  did  not  immediately  speak.  He  pres 
ently  asked:  "What  do  you  call  money?" 

"Well,"  said  Asaph,  with  a  little  hesitation,  "con- 
siclerin'  the  circumstances,  I  should  say  that  in  a  case 
like  this  about  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  a  first-rate 
house,  with  not  a  loose  shingle  on  it  nor  a  crack  any 
where,  a  good  garden  and  an  orchard,  two  cows,  a 
piece  of  meadow  land  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek, 
and  all  the  clothes  a  woman  need  have,  is  money." 

Thomas  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Clothes!"  he 
said.  "  If  she  marries  she'll  go  out  of  black,  and  then 
she'll  have  to  have  new  ones,  and  lots  of  'em.  That 
would  make  a  big  hole  in  her  money,  Asaph." 

The  other  smiled.  "  I  always  knowed  you  was  a 
f ar-seein'  feller,  Thomas ;  but  it  stands  to  reason  that 
Marietta's  got  a  lot  of  clothes  that  was  on  hand 
before  she  went  into  mournin',  and  she's  not  the 
kind  of  woman  to  waste  'em.  She'll  be  twistin'  'em 


48  ASAPH 

about  and  makin*  'em  over  to  su.it  the  fashions,  and  it 
won't  be  like  her  to  be  buyin'  new  colored  goods  when 
she's  got  plenty  of  'em  already." 

There  was  now  another  pause  in  the  conversation 
and  then  Mr.  Kooper  remarked:  "Mrs.  Hinies  must 
be  gettin'  on  pretty  well  in  years." 

"She's  not  a  young  woman,"  saidAsaph;  "but  if 
she  was  much  younger  she  wouldn't  have  you,  and  if 
she  was  much  older  you  wouldn't  have  her.  So  it 
strikes  me  she's  just  about  the  right  pint." 

"  How  old  was  John  Himes  when  he  died?  "  asked 
Thomas. 

"I  don't  exactly  know  that;  but  he  was  a  lot  older 
than  Marietta." 

Thomas  shook  his  head.  "It  strikes  me,"  said 
he,  "  that  John  Himes  had  a  hearty  constitution  and 
hadn't  ought  to  died  as  soon  as  he  did.  He  fell 
away  a  good  deal  in  the  last  years  of  his  life." 

"And  considerin'  that  he  died  of  consumption,  he 
had  a  right  to  fall  away,"  said  Asaph.  "If  what  you 
are  drivin'  at,  Thomas,  is  that  Marietta  isn't  a  good 
housekeeper  and  hasn't  the  right  sort  of  notions  of 
feedin',  look  at  me.  I've  lived  with  Marietta  just 
about  a  year,  and  in  that  time  I  have  gained  forty- 
two  pounds.  Now,  of  course,  I  ain't  unreasonable, 
and  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  would  gain  forty -two 
pounds  in  a  year,  'cause  you  ain't  got  the  frame  and 
bone  to  put  it  on;  but  it  wouldn't  surprise  me  a  bit 
if  you  was  to  gain  twenty,  or  even  twenty-five  pounds 
in  eighteen  months,  anyway;  and  more  than  that 
you  ought  not  to  ask,  Thomas,  considerin'  your 
height  and  general  build." 


ASAPH  49 

"Isn't  Marietta  Himes  a  good  deal  of  a  free 
thinker  ?  "  asked  Thomas. 

"  A  what  ?  "  cried  Asaph.    "  You  mean  an  infidel?  " 

"No,"  said  Thomas,  "I  don't  charge  nobody  with 
nothin'  more  than  there's  reason  for;  but  they  do 
say  that  she  goes  sometimes  to  one  church  and  some 
times  to  another,  and  that  if  there  was  a  Catholic 
church  in  this  village  she  would  go  to  that.  And 
who's  goin'  to  say  where  a  woman  will  turn  up  when 
she  don't  know  her  own  mind  better  than  that  ?  " 

Asaph  colored  a  little.  "  The  place  where  Marietta 
will  turn  up,"  said  he  warmly,  "is  on  a  front  seat  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  j  and  if  the  people  that  talk 
about  her  will  mend  their  ways,  they'll  see  that  I  am 
right.  You  need  not  trouble  yourself  about  that, 
Thomas.  Marietta  Himes  is  pious  to  the  heel." 

Mr.  Kooper  now  shifted  himself  a  little  on  the  bench 
and  crossed  one  leg  over  the  other.  "  Now  look  here, 
Asaph, "  he  said,  with  a  little  more  animation  than  he 
had  yet  shown,  "  supposin'  all  you  say  is  true,  have 
you  got  any  reason  to  think  that  Mrs.  Himes  ain't 
satisfied  with  things  as  they  are  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  have,"  said  Asaph.  "And  I  don't  mind 
tellin'  you  that  the  thing  she's  least  satisfied  with  is 
me.  She  wants  a  man  in  the  house;  that  is  nateral. 
She  wouldn't  be  Marietta  Himes  if  she  didn't.  When 
I  come  to  live  with  her  I  thought  the  whole  business 
was  settled;  but  it  isn't.  I  don't  suit  her.  I  don't 
say  she's  lookin'  for  another  man,  but  if  another 
man  was  to  come  along,  and  if  he  was  the  right 
kind  of  a  man,  it's  my  opinion  she's  ready  for  him. 
I  wouldn't  say  this  to  everybody,  but  I  say  it  to 


50  ASAPH 

you,  Thomas  Kooper,  'cause  I  know  what  kind  of  a 
man  you  are." 

Mr.  Eooper  did  not  return  the  compliment.  "I 
don't  wonder  your  sister  ain't  satisfied  with  you/'  he 
said,  "  for  you  go  ahead  of  all  the  lazy  men  I  ever 
saw  yet.  They  was  sayin'  down  at  the  tavern  yester 
day,  only  yesterday,  that  you  could  do  less  work  in 
more  time  than  anybody  they  ever  saw  before./ 

"There's  two  ways  of  workin',"  said  Asaph. 
"  Some  people  work  with  their  hands  and  some  with 
their  heads." 

Thomas  grimly  smiled.  "It  strikes  me,"  said 
he,  "that  the  most  headwork  you  do  is  with  your 
jaws." 

Asaph  was  not  the  man  to  take  offence  readily, 
especially  when  he  considered  it  against  his  interest 
to  do  so,  and  he  showed  no  resentment  at  this  remark. 
"  'Taint  so  much  my  not  makin'  myself  more  gener 
ally  useful,"  he  said,  "that  Marietta  objects  to; 
though,  of  course,  it  could  not  be  expected  that  a  man 
that  hasn't  got  any  interest  in  property  would  keep 
workin'  at  it  like  a  man  that  has  got  an  interest  in  it, 
such  as  Marietta's  husband  would  have;  but  it's  my 
general  appearance  that  she  don't  like.  She's  told 
me  more  than  once  she  didn't  so  much  mind  my  bein' 
lazy  as  lookin'  lazy." 

"  I  don't  wonder  she  thinks  that  way,"  said  Thomas. 
"  But  look  here,  Asaph,  do  you  suppose  that  if  Mari 
etta  Himes  was  to  marry  a  man,  he  would  really  come 
into  her  property?" 

"  There  ain't  nobody  that  knows  my  sister  better 
than  I  know  her,  and  I  can  say,  without  any  fear  of 


ASAPH  51 

bein'  contradicted,  that  when  she  gives  herself  to  a 
man  the  good-will  and  fixtures  will  be  included." 

Thomas  Hooper  now  leaned  forward  with  his  elbows 
on  his  knees  without  smoking,  and  Asaph  Scantle 
leaned  forward  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  without 
smoking.  And  thus  they  remained,  saying  nothing 
to  each  other,  for  the  space  of  some  ten  minutes. 

Asaph  was  a  man  who  truly  used  his  head  a  great 
deal  more  than  he  used  his  hands.  He  had  always 
been  a  shiftless  fellow,  but  he  was  no  fool,  and  this 
his  sister  found  out  soon  after  she  asked  him  to  come 
and  make  his  home  with  her.  She  had  not  done  this 
because  she  wanted  a  man  in  the  house,  for  she  had 
lived  two  or  three  years  without  that  convenience  and 
had  not  felt  the  need  of  it.  But  she  heard  that  Asaph 
was  in  very  uncomfortable  circumstances,  and  she  had 
sent  for  him  solely  for  his  own  good.  The  arrange 
ment  proved  to  be  a  very  good  one  for  her  brother, 
but  not  a  good  one  for  her.  She  had  always  known 
that  Asaph' s  head  was  his  main  dependence,  but  she 
was  just  beginning  to  discover  that  he  liked  to  use  his 
head  so  that  other  people's  hands  should  work  for 
him. 

"There  ain't  nobody  comin'  to  see  your  sister,  is 
there?"  asked  Thomas  suddenly. 

" Not  a  livin'  soul,"  said  Asaph,  "except  women, 
married  folk,  and  children.  But  it  has  always  sur 
prised  me  that  nobody  did  come;  but  just  at  this 
minute  the  field's  clear  and  the  gate's  open." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Kooper,  "I'll  think  about  it." 

"That's  right,"  said  Asaph,  rubbing  his  knees  with 
his  hands.  "  That's  right.  But  now  tell  me,  Thomas 


52  ASAPH 

Eooper,  supposin'  you  get  Marietta,  what  are  you 
goin'  to  do  for  me?" 

"  For  you?  "  exclaimed  the  other.  "  What  have  you 
got  to  do  with  it?" 

"A  good  deal,"  said  Asaph.  "If  you  get  Marietta 
with  her  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  and  it  wouldn't  sur 
prise  me  if  it  was  eighteen  hundred,  and  her  house 
and  her  garden  and  her  cattle  and  her  field  and  her 
furniture,  with  not  a  leg  loose  nor  a  scratch,  you  will 
get  her  because  I  proposed  her  to  you,  and  because 
I  backed  you  up  afterward.  And  now  then,  I  want 
to  know  what  you  are  goin'  to  do  for  me?" 

"What. do  you  want?"  asked  Thomas. 

"The  first  thing  I  want,"  said  Asaph,  "is  a  suit  of 
clothes.  These  clothes  is  disgraceful." 

"  You  are  right  there, "  said  Mr.  Eooper.  "  I  wonder 
your  sister  lets  you  come  around  in  front  of  the  house. 
But  what  do  you  mean  by  clothes ;  winter  clothes  or 
summer  clothes?" 

"  Winter, "  said  Asaph,  without  hesitation.  "  I  don't 
count  summer  clothes.  And  when  I  say  a  suit  of 
clothes,  I  mean  shoes  and  hat  and  underclothes." 

Mr.  Eooper  gave  a  sniff.  "  I  wonder  you  don't  say 
overcoat,"  he  remarked. 

"I  do  say  overcoat,"  replied  Asaph.  "A  suit  of 
winter  clothes  is  a  suit  of  clothes  that  you  can  go  out 
into  the  weather  in  without  missin'  nothin'." 

Mr.  Eooper  smiled  sarcastically.  "Is  there  any 
thing  else  you  want?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Asaph,  decidedly;  "there  is.  I  want 
a  umbrella." 

"Cotton  or  silk?" 


ASAPH 


53 


Asapli  hesitated.  He  had  never  had  a  silk  umbrella 
in  his  hand  in  his  life.  He  was  afraid  to  strike  too 
high,  and  he  answered,  "  I  want  a  good  stout  gingham." 

Mr.  Kooper  nodded  his  head.  "Very  good,"  he 
said.  "And  is  that  all?" 

" No,"  said  Asaph,  "  it  ain't  all.  There  is  one  more 
thing  I  want,  and  that  is  a  dictionary." 

The  other  man  rose  to  his  feet.  " Upon  my  word," 
he  exclaimed,  "  I  never  before  saw  a  man  that  would 
sell  his  sister  for  a  dictionary.  And  what  you  want 
with  a  dictionary  is  past  my  coiiceivin'." 

"  Well,  it  ain't  past  mine, "  said  Asaph.  "  For  more 
than  ten  years  I  have  wanted  a  dictionary.  If  I  had 
a  dictionary  I  could  make  use  of  my  head  in  a  way 
that  I  can't  now.  There  is  books  in  this  house, 
but  amongst  'em  there  is  no  dictionary.  If  there 
had  been  one,  I'd  been  a  different  man  by  this  time 
from  what  I  am  now,  and  like  as  not  Marietta 
wouldn't  have  wanted  any  other  man  in  the  house 
but  me." 

Mr.  Hooper  stood  looking  upon  the  ground;  and 
Asaph,  who  had  also  arisen,  waited  for  him  to  speak. 
"You  are  a  graspin'  man,  Asaph,"  said  Thomas. 
"But  there  is  another  thing  I'd  like  to  know:  if  I 
give  you  them  clothes,  you  don't  want  them  before 
she's  married?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Asaph.  "If  I  come  to  the 
weddin',  I  can't  wear  these  things.  I  have  got  to 
have  them  first." 

Mr.  Eooper  gave  his  head  a  little  twist.     "There's 
many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip,"  said  he. 
"Yes,"  said  Asaph;  "and  there's  different  cups  and 


54  ASAPH 

different  lips.  But  what's  more,  if  I  was  to  be  best 
man,  which  would  be  nateral,  considering  I'm  your 
friend  and  her  brother,  you  wouldn't  want  me  standin' 
up  in  this  rig.  And  that's  putt  in'  it  in  your  own 
point  of  view,  Thomas." 

"It  strikes  me,"  said  the  other,  "that  I  could  get  a 
best  man  that  would  furnish  his  own  clothes ;  but  we 
will  see  about  that.  There's  another  thing,  Asaph," 
he  said  abruptly;  "what  are  Mrs.  Himes's  views  con- 
cernin'  pipes?" 

This  question  startled  and  frightened  Asaph.  He 
knew  that  his  sister  could  not  abide  the  smell  of 
tobacco  and  that  Mr.  Hooper  was  an  inveterate  smoker. 

"That  depends,"  said  he,  "on  the  kind  of  tobacco. 
I  don't  mind  sayin'  that  Marietta  isn't  partial  to  the 
kind  of  tobacco  I  smoke.  But  I  ain't  a  moneyed  man 
and  I  can't  afford  to  buy  nothin'  but  cheap  stuff.  But 
when  it  comes  to  a  meerschaum  pipe  and  the  very 
finest  Virginia  or  North  Carolina  smoking  tobacco, 
such  as  a  moneyed  man  would  be  likely  to  use  —  " 

At  this  moment  there  came  from  the  house  the 
sound  of  a  woman's  voice,  not  loud,  but  clear  and 
distinct,  and  it  said  "Asaph." 

This  word  sent  through  Mr.  Eooper  a  gentle  thrill 
such  as  he  did  not  remember  ever  having  felt  before. 
There  seemed  to  be  in  it  a  suggestion,  a  sort  of 
prophecy,  of  what  appeared  to  him  as  an  undefined 
and  chaotic  bliss.  He  was  not  a  fanciful  man,  but  he 
could  not  help  imagining  himself  standing  alone  under 
that  chestnut  tree  and  that  voice  calling  "Thomas." 

Upon  Asaph  the  effect  was  different.  The  inter 
ruption  was  an  agreeable  one  in  one  way,  because  it 


ASAPH  55 

cut  short  his  attempted  explanation  of  the  tobacco 
question;  but  in  another  way  he  knew  that  it  meant 
the  swinging  of  an  axe,  and  that  was  not  pleasant. 

Mr.  Eooper  walked  back  to  the  tavern  in  a  cogita 
tive  state  of  mind.  "That  Asaph  Scantle,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "has  got  a  headpiece,  there's  no  denying 
it.  If  it  had  not  been  for  him  I  do  not  believe  I 
should  have  thought  of  his  sister;  at  least  not  until 
the  McJimseys  had  left  my  house,  and  then  it  might 
have  been  too  late." 

Marietta  Himes  was  a  woman  with  a  gentle  voice 
and  an  appearance  and  demeanor  indicative  of  a  gen 
eral  softness  of  disposition,  but  beneath  this  mild 
exterior  there  was  a  great  deal  of  firmness  of  purpose. 
Asaph  had  not  seen  very  much  of  his  sister  since  she 
had  grown  up  and  married ;  and  when  he  came  to  live 
with  her  he  thought  that  he  was  going  to  have  things 
pretty  much  his  own  way.  But  it  was  not  long  before 
he  entirely  changed  his  mind. 

Mrs.  Himes  was  of  moderate  height,  pleasant  coun 
tenance,  and  a  figure  inclined  to  plumpness.  Her  dark 
hair,  in  which  there  was  not  a  line  of  gray,  was 
brushed  down  smoothly  on  each  side  of  her  face,  and 
her  dress,  while  plain,  was  extremely  neat.  In  fact, 
everything  in  the  house  and  on  the  place  was  extremely 
neat,  except  Asaph. 

She  was  in  the  bright  little  dining-room  which 
looked  out  on  the  flower  garden,  preparing  the  table 
for  supper,  placing  every  plate,  dish,  glass,  and  cup 
with  as  much  care  and  exactness  as  if  a  civil  engineer 
had  drawn  a  plan  on  the  tablecloth  with  places  marked 
for  the  position  of  each  article. 


56  ASAPH 

As  she  finished  her  work  by  placing  a  chair  on 
each  side  of  the  table,  a  quiet  smile,  the  result  of  a 
train  of  thought  in  which  she  had  been  indulging  for 
the  past  half -hour,  stole  over  her  face.  She  passed 
through  the  kitchen,  with  a  glance  at  the  stove  to  see 
if  the  tea-kettle  had  begun  to  boil,  and  going  out  of 
the  back  door,  she  walked  over  to  the  shed  where  her 
brother  was  splitting  kindling  wood. 

"  Asaph,"  said  Mrs.  Himes,  "if  I  were  to  give  you 
a  good  suit  of  clothes,  would  you  promise  me  that  you 
would  never  smoke  when  wearing  them?" 

Her  brother  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  "  Clothes !  " 
he  repeated. 

"Mr.  Himes  was  about  your  size,"  said  his  sister, 
"  and  he  left  a  good  many  clothes,  which  are  most  of 
them  very  good  and  carefully  packed  away,  so  that  I 
am  sure  there  is  not  a  moth  hole  in  any  one  of  them. 
I  have  several  times  thought,  Asaph,  that  I  might  give 
you  some  of  his  clothes;  but  it  did  seem  to  me  a 
desecration  to  have  the  clothes  of  such  a  man,  who 
was  so  particular  and  nice,  filled  and  saturated  with 
horrible  tobacco  smoke  which  he  detested.  But  now 
you  are  getting  to  be  so  awful  shabby,  I  do  not  see 
how  I  can  stand  it  any  longer.  But  one  thing  I  will 
not  do,  I  will  not  have  Mr.  Himes's  clothes  smelling 
of  tobacco  as  yours  do,  and  not  only  your  own  tobacco, 
but  Mr.  Roopers." 

"I  think,"  said  Asaph,  "that  you  are  not  exactly 
right  just  there.  What  you  smell  about  me  is  my 
smoke.  Thomas  Rooper  never  uses  anything  but  the 
finest  scented  and  delicatest  brands.  I  think  that  if 
you  come  to  get  used  to  his  tobacco  smoke  you  would 


ASAPH  57 

like  it.  But  as  to  my  takin'  off  my  clothes  and  puttin' 
on  a  different  suit  every  time  I  want  to  light  my  pipe, 
that's  pretty  hard  lines,  it  seems  to  me." 

"It  would  be  a  good  deal  easier  to  give  up  the 
pipe,"  said  his  sister. 

"I  will  do  that,"  said  Asaph,  "when  you  give  up 
tea.  But  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  there's  no  use 
of  either  of  us  a-tryin'  to  change  our  comfortable 
habits  at  our  time  of  life." 

"I  kept  on  hoping,"  said  Mrs.  Himes,  "that  you 
would  feel  yourself  that  you  were  not  fit  to  be  seen  by 
decent  people,  and  that  you  would  go  to  work  and  earn 
at  least  enough  money  to  buy  yourself  some  clothes. 
But  as  you  don't  seem  inclined  to  do  that,  I  thought  I 
would  make  you  this  offer.  But  you  must  understand 
that  I  will  not  have  you  smoke  in  Mr.  Himes's 
clothes." 

Asaph  stood  thinking,  the  head  of  his  axe  resting 
upon  the  ground,  a  position  which  suited  him.  He 
was  in  a  little  perplexity.  Marietta's  proposition 
seemed  to  interfere  somewhat  with  the  one  he  had 
made  to  Thomas  Eooper.  Here  was  a  state  of  affairs 
which  required  most  careful  consideration.  "I've 
been  arrangin'  about  some  clothes, "  he  said  presently ; 
"for  I  know  very  well  I  need  'em;  but  I  don't  know 
just  yet  how  it  will  turn  out." 

"I  hope,  Asaph,"  said  Marietta  quickly,  "that  you 
are  not  thinking  of  going  into  debt  for  clothing,  and  I 
know  that  you  haven't  been  working  to  earn  money. 
What  arrangements  have  you  been  making?" 

"That's  my  private  affair,"  said  Asaph,  "but 
there's  no  debt  in  it.  It  is  all  fair  and  square  — 


ASAPH 

cash  down,  so  to  speak;  though,  of  course,  it's  not 
cash,  but  Avork.  But,  as  I  said  before,  that  isn't 
settled." 

"I  am  afraid,  Asaph,"  said  his  sister,  "that  if  you 
have  to  do  the  work  first  you  will  never  get  the 
clothes,  and  so  you  might  as  well  come  back  to  my 
offer." 

Asaph  came  back  to  it  and  thought  about  it  very 
earnestly.  If  by  any  chance  he  could  get  two  suits 
of  clothes,  he  would  then  feel  that  he  had  a  head 
worth  having.  "What  would  you  say,"  he  said  pres 
ently,  "  if  when  I  wanted  to  smoke  I  was  to  put  on  a 
long  duster  —  I  guess  Mr.  Himes  had  dusters  —  and  a 
nightcap  and  rubbers?  I'd  agree  to  hang  the  duster 
and  the  cap  in  the  shed  here  and  never  smoke  without 
putting  'em  on."  There  was  a  deep  purpose  in  this 
proposition,  for,  enveloped  in  the  long  duster,  he 
might  sit  with  Thomas  Eooper  under  the  chestnut  tree 
and  smoke  and  talk  and  plan  as  long  as  he  pleased, 
and  his  companion  would  not  know  that  he  did  not 
need  a  new  suit  of  clothes. 

"Nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Himes;  "you  must  make  up 
your  mind  to  act  perfectly  fairly,  Asaph,  or  else  say 
you  will  not  accept  my  offer.  But  if  you  don't  accept 
it,  I  can't  see  how  you  can  keep  on  living  with  me." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  clothes,  Marietta?"  he 
asked. 

"Well,  I  mean  a  complete  suit,  of  course,"  said  she. 

"  Wintef  or  summer?" 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  Mrs.  Himes  replied; 
"but  that  can  be  as  you  choose." 

"Overcoat?"  asked  Asaph. 


AS  APE  59 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "and  cane  and  umbrella,  if  you 
like,  and  pocket-handkerchiefs  too.  I  will  fit  you  out 
completely  and  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  looking  like 
a  decent  man.'7 

At  the  mention  of  the  umbrella  another  line  of 
perplexity  shoAved  itself  upon  Asaph' s  brow.  The 
idea  came  to  him  that  if  she  would  add  a  dictionary 
he  would  strike  a  bargain.  Thomas  Eooper  was  cer 
tainly  a  very  undecided  and  uncertain  sort  of  man. 
But  then  there  came  up  the  thought  of  his  pipe,  and 
he  was  all  at  sea  again.  Giving  up  smoking  was 
almost  the  same  as  giving  up  eating.  "Marietta," 
said  he,  "I  will  think  about  this." 

"Very  well,"  she  answered,  "but  it's  my  opinion, 
Asaph,  that  you  ought  not  to  take  more  than  one 
minute  to  think  about  it.  However,  I  will  give  you 
until  to-morrow  morning,  and  then  if  you  decide  that 
you  don't  care  to  look  like  a  respectable  citizen,  I 
must  have  some  further  talk  with  you  about  our  future 
arrangements . " 

"Make  it  to-morrow  night,"  said  Asaph.  And  his 
sister  consented. 

The  next  day  Asaph  was  unusually  brisk  and  active ; 
and  very  soon  after  breakfast  he  walked  over  to  the 
village  tavern  to  see  Mr.  Eooper. 

"  Hello !  "  exclaimed  that  individual,  surprised  at 
his  visitor's  early  appearance  at  the  business  centre 
of  the  village.  "What's  started  you  out?  Have  you 
come  after  them  clothes?" 

A  happy  thought  struck  Asaph.  He  had  made  this 
visit  with  the  intention  of  feeling  his  way  towards 
some  decision  on  the  important  subject  of  his  sister's 


60  ASAPH 

proposition,  and  here  a  way  seemed  to  be  opened  to 
him.  "Thomas,"  said  he,  taking  his  friend  aside,  "I 
am  in  an  awful  fix.  Marietta  can't  stand  my  clothes 
any  longer.  If  she  can't  stand  them  she  can't  stand 
me,  and  when  it  comes  to  that,  you  can  see  for  your 
self  that  I  can't  help  you." 

A  shade  settled  upon  Mr.  Rooper's  face.  During 
the  past  evening  he  had  been  thinking  and  puffing 
and  puffing  and  thinking  until  everybody  else  in  the 
tavern  had  gone  to  bed,  and  he  had  finally  made  up 
his  mind  that,  if  he  could  do  it,  he  would  marry 
Marietta  Himes.  He  had  never  been  very  intimate 
with  her  or  her  husband,  but  he  had  been  to  meals  in 
the  house,  and  he  remembered  the  fragrant  coffee  and 
the  light,  puffy,  well-baked  rolls  made  by  Marietta's 
own  hands ;  and  he  thought  of  the  many  differences 
between  living  in  that  very  good  house  with  that 
gentle,  pleasant-voiced  lady  and  his  present  life  in 
the  village  tavern. 

And  so,  having  determined  that  without  delay  he 
would,  with  the  advice  and  assistance  of  Asaph,  begin 
his  courtship,  it  was  natural  that  he  should  feel  a 
shock  of  discouragement  when  he  heard  Asaph' s 
announcement  that  his  sister  could  not  endure  him  in 
the  house  any  longer.  To  attack  that  house  and  its 
owner  without  the  friendly  offices  upon  which  he 
depended  was  an  undertaking  for  which  he  was  not  at 
all  prepared. 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  her, "  he  said  sharply,  "  not  a 
bit.  But  this  puts  a  mighty  different  face  on  the 
thing  what  we  talked  about  yesterday." 

"It  needn't,"  said  Asaph  quietly.     "The  clothes 


ASAPH  61 

you  was  goin'  to  give  me  wouldn't  cost  a  cent  more 
to-day  than  they  would  in  a  couple  of  months,  say; 
and  when  I've  got  'em  on  Marietta  will  be  glad  to 
have  me  around.  Everything  can  go  on  just  as  we 
bargained  for." 

Thomas  shook  his  head.  "  That  would  be  a  mighty 
resky  piece  of  business,"  he  said.  "You  would  be  all 
right,  but  that's  not  sayin'  that  I  would;  for  it  strikes 
me  that  your  sister  is  about  as  much  a  bird  in  the 
bush  as  any  fly  in'  critter." 

Asaph  smiled.  "  If  the  bush  was  in  the  middle  of 
a  field,"  said  he,  "and  there  was  only  one  boy  after 
the  bird,  it  would  be  a  pretty  tough  job.  But  if  the 
bush  is  in  the  corner  of  two  high  walls,  and  there's 
two  boys,  and  one  of  'em's  got  a  fishnet  what  he  can 
throw  clean  over  the  bush,  why,  then  the  chances  is 
a  good  deal  better.  But  droppin'  figgers,  Thomas, 
and  speakin'  plain  and  straightforward,  as  I  always 
do  —  " 

"About  things  you  want  to  git,"  interrupted 
Thomas. 

"About  everything,"  resumed  Asaph.  "I'll  just 
tell  you  this:  if  I  don't  git  decent  clothes  now 
to-day,  or  perhaps  to-morrow,  I  have  got  to  travel  out 
of  Marietta's  house.  I  can  do  it  and  she  knows  it.  I 
can  go  back  to  Drummondville  and  git  my  board  for 
keepin'  books  in  the  store  and  nobody  there  cares 
what  sort  of  clothes  I  wear.  But  when  that  happens, 
your  chance  of  gittiii'  Marietta  goes  up  higher  than 
a  kite." 

To  the  mind  of  Mr.  Hooper  this  was  most  conclu 
sive  reasoning;  but  he  would  not  admit  it  and  he  did 


62  ASAPH 

not  like  it.  "Why  don't  your  sister  give  you 
clothes?"  he  said.  "Old  Himes  must  have  left 
some." 

A  thin  chill  like  a  needleful  of  frozen  thread  ran 
down  Asaph's  back.  "Mr.  Himes's  clothes!"  he 
exclaimed.  "What  in  the  world  are  you  talkin' 
about,  Thomas  Eooper?  'Tain't  likely  he  had  many 
'cept  what  he  was  buried  in,  and  what's  left,  if  there 
is  any,  Marietta  would  no  more  think  of  givin'  away 
than  she  would  of  hangin'  up  his  funeral  wreath  for 
the  canary  bird  to  perch  on.  There's  a  room  up  in 
the  garret  where  she  keeps  his  special  things,  for 
she's  awful  particular,  and  if  there  is  any  of  his 
clothes  up  there  I  expect  she's  got  'em  framed." 

"  If  she  thinks  as  much  of  him  as  that, "  muttered 
Mr.  Eooper. 

"  Now  don't  git  any  sech  ideas  as  them  into  your 
head,  Thomas,"  said  Asaph  quickly.  "Marietta  ain't 
a  woman  to  rake  up  the  past,  and  you  never  need  be 
afraid  of  her  rakin'  up  Mr.  Himes.  All  of  the  prem 
ises  will  be  hern  and  yourn  except  that  room  in  the 
garret,  and  it  ain't  likely  she'll  ever  ask  you  to  go  in 
there." 

"The  Lord  knows  I  don't  want  to!"  ejaculated 
Mr.  Eooper. 

The  two  men  walked  slowly  to  the  end  of  a  line  of 
well-used,  or,  rather,  badly  used,  wooden  armchairs 
which  stood  upon  the  tavern  piazza,  and  seated  them 
selves.  Mr.  Eooper 's  mind  was  in  a  highly  perturbed 
condition.  If  he  accepted  Asaph's  present  proposi 
tion  he  would  have  to  make  a  considerable  outlay  with 
a  very  shadowy  prospect  of  return. 


ASAPH  63 

"If  you  haven't  got  the  ready  money  for  the 
clothes,"  said  Asaph,  after  having  given  his  com 
panion  some  minutes  for  silent  consideration,  "there 
ain't  a  man  in  this  village  what  they  would  trust 
sooner  at  the  store  for  clothes,"  and  then  after  a 
pause  he  added,  "or  books^  which,  of  course,  they 
can  order  from  town." 

At  this  Mr.  Rooper  simply  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
The  question  of  ready  money  or  credit  did  not  trouble 
him. 

At  this  moment  a  man  in  a  low  phaeton,  drawn  by 
a  stout  gray  horse,  passed  the  tavern. 

"Who's  that?"  asked  Asaph,  who  knew  everybody 
in  the  village. 

" That's  Doctor  Wicker,"  said  Thomas.  " He  lives 
over  at  Timberley.  He  'tended  John  Himes  in  his 
last  sickness." 

"He  don't  practise  here,  does  he?"  said  Asaph. 
"I  never  see  him." 

"No;  but  he  was  called  in  to  consult."  And  then 
the  speaker  dropped  again  into  cogitation. 

After  a  few  minutes  Asaph  rose.  He  knew  that 
Thomas  Rooper  had  a  slow-working  mind  and  thought 
it  would  be  well  to  leave  him  to  himself  for  awhile. 
"I'll  go  home,"  said  he,  "and  'tend  to  my  chores,  and 
by  the  time  you  feel  like  comin'  up  and  takin'  a 
smoke  with  me  under  the  chestnut  tree,  I  reckon  you 
will  have  made  up  your  mind,  and  we'll  settle  this 
thing.  Fer  if  I  have  got  to  go  back  to  Drummond- 
ville,  I  s'pose  I'll  have  to  pack  up  this  afternoon." 

"If  you'd  say  pack  off  instead  of  pack  up,"  re 
marked  the  other,  "you'd  come  nearer  the  facts,  con- 


64  ASAPH 

siderin'  the  amount  of  your  personal  property.  But 
I'll  be  up  there  in  an  hour  or  two." 

When  Asaph  came  within  sight  of  his  sister's  house, 
he  was  amazed  to  see  a  phaeton  and  a  gray  horse 
standing  in  front  of  the  gate.  From  this  it  was  easy 
to  infer  that  the  doctor  was  in  the  house.  What  on 
earth  could  have  happened?  Was  anything  the  mat 
ter  with  Marietta?  And  if  so,  why  did  she  send  for 
a  physician  who  lived  at  a  distance,  instead  of  Doctor 
Mcllvaine,  the  village  doctor?  In  a  very  anxious 
state  of  mind  Asaph  reached  the  gate,  and  irresolutely 
went  into  the  yard.  His  impulse  was  to  go  to  the 
house  and  see  what  had  happened;  but  he  hesitated. 
He  felt  that  Marietta  might  object  to  having  a  com 
parative  stranger  know  that  such  an  exceedingly 
shabby  fellow  was  her  brother.  And,  besides,  his 
sister  could  not  have  been  overtaken  by  any  sudden 
illness.  She  had  always  appeared  perfectly  well,  and 
there  would  have  been  no  time  during  his  brief 
absence  from  the  house  to  send  over  to  Timberley  for  a 
doctor. 

So  he  sat  down  under  the  chestnut  tree  to  consider 
this  strange  condition  of  affairs.  "Whatever  it  is," 
he  said  to  himself,  "it's  nothin'  suddint,  and  it's 
bound  to  be  chronic,  and  that'll  skeer  Thomas.  I 
wish  I  hadn't  asked  him  to  come  up  here.  The  best 
thing  for  me  to  do  will  be  to  pretend  that  I  have  been 
sent  to  git  somethin'  at  the  store,  and  go  straight  back 
and  keep  him  from  comin'  up." 

But  Asaph  was  a  good  deal  quicker  to  think  than  to 
move,  and  he  still  sat  with  brows  wrinkled  and  mind 
beset  by  doubts.  For  a  moment  he  thought  that  it 


ASAPH  65 

might  be  well  to  accept  Marietta's  proposition  and  let 
Thomas  go ;  but  then  he  remembered  the  conditions, 
and  he  shut  his  mental  eyes  at  the  prospect. 

At  that  moment  the  gate  opened  and  in  walked 
Thomas  Eooper.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  and  had 
come  to  say  so ;  but  the  sight  of  the  phaeton  and  gray 
horse  caused  him  to  postpone  his  intended  announce 
ment.  "What's  Doctor  Wicker  doin'  here?"  he 
asked  abruptly. 

"Dunno,"  said  Asaph,  as  carelessly  as  he  could 
speak.  "  I  don't  meddle  with  household  matters  of 
that  kind.  I  expect  it's  somethin'  the  matter  with 
that  gal  Betsey,  that  Marietta  hires  to  help  her.  She's 
always  wrong  some  way  or  other  so  that  she  can't  do 
her  own  proper  work,  which  I  know,  havin'  to  do  a 
good  deal  of  it  myself.  I  expect  it's  rickets,  like  as 
not.  Gals  do  have  that  sort  of  thing,  don't  they?" 

"Never  had  anything  to  do  with  sick  gals,"  said 
Thomas,  "  or  sick  people  of  any  sort,  and  don't  want  to. 
But  it  must  be  somethin'  pretty  deep-seated  for  your 
sister  to  send  all  the  way  to  Timberley  for  a  doctor." 

Asaph  knew  very  well  that  Mrs.  Himes  was  too 
economical  a  person  to  think  of  doing  such  a  thing  as 
that,  and  he  knew  also  that  Betsey  was  as  good  a 
specimen  of  rustic  health  as  could  be  found  in  the 
county.  And  therefore  his  companion's  statement 
that  he  wanted  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  sick  people 
had  for  him  a  saddening  import. 

"  I  settled  that  business  of  yourn, "  said  Mr.  Kooper, 
"pretty  soon  after  you  left  me.  I  thought  I  might 
as  well  come  straight  around  and  tell  you  about  it. 
I'll  make  you  a  fair  and  square  offer.  I'll  give  you 


66  ASAPH 

them  clothes,  though  it  strikes  me  that  winter  goods 
will  be  pretty  heavy  for  this  time  of  year;  but  it  will 
be  on  this  condition:  if  I  don't  get  Marietta,  you  have 
got  to  give  'em  back." 

Asaph  smiled. 

"I  know  what  you  are  grirmin'  at,"  said  Thomas; 
"but  you  needn't  think  that  you  are  goin'  to  have  the 
wearin'  of  them  clothes  for  two  or  three  months  and 
then  give  'em  back.  I  don't  go  in  for  any  long  court 
ships.  What  I  do  in  that  line  will  be  short  and 
sharp." 

"How  short?"  asked  Asaph. 

"Well,  this  is  Thursday,"  replied  the  other,  "and 
I  calculate  to  ask  her  on  Monday." 

Asaph  looked  at  his  companion  in  amazement.  "  By 
George!"  he  exclaimed,  "that  won't  work.  Why, 
it  took  Marietta  more'n  five  days  to  make  up  her 
mind  whether  she  would  have  the  chicken  house 
painted  green  or  red,  and  you  can't  expect  her  to  be 
quicker  than  that  in  takin'  a  new  husband.  She'd 
say  No  just  as  certain  as  she  would  now  if  you  was  to 
go  in  and  ask  her  right  before  the  doctor  and  Betsey. 
And  I'll  just  tell  you  plain  that  it  wouldn't  pay  me 
to  do  all  the  hustlin'  around  and  talkin'  and  argyin' 
and  recommendm'  that  I'd  have  to  do  just  for  the 
pleasure  of  wearin'  a  suit  of  warm  clothes  for  four 
July  days.  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  it  won't  do  to  spring 
that  sort  of  thing  on  a  woman,  especially  when  she's 
what  you  might  call  a  trained  widcler.  You  got  to 
give  'em  time  to  think  over  the  matter  and  to  look  up 
your  references.  There's  no  use  talkin'  about  it;  you 
must  give  'em  time,  especially  when  the  offer  comes 


ASAPH  67 

from  a  person  that  nobody  but  me  has  ever  thought 
of  as  a  marry  in*  man." 

"Humph!"  said  Thomas.  "That's  all  you  know 
about  it." 

"Facts  is  facts,  and  you  can't  git  around  'em. 
There  isiit  a  woman  in  this  village  what  wouldn't 
take  at  least  two  weeks  to  git  it  into  her  head  that 
you  was  really  courtin'  her.  She  would  be  just  as 
likely  to  think  that  you  was  tryin'  to  git  a  tenant  in 
place  of  the  McJimseys.  But  a  month  of  your  courtin' 
and  a  month  of  my  workin'  would  just  about  make 
the  matter  all  right  with  Marietta,  and  then  you  could 
sail  in  and  settle  it." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Eooper,  rising  suddenly.  "  I 
will  court  your  sister  for  one  month;  and  if,  on  the 
17th  day  of  August,  she  takes  me,  you  can  go  up  to 
the  store  and  git  them  clothes ;  but  you  can't  do  it  one 
minute  afore.  Good  mornin'." 

Asaph,  left  alone,  heaved  a  sigh.  He  did  not 
despair;  but  truly,  fate  was  heaping  a  great  many 
obstacles  in  his  path.  He  thought  it  was  a  very  hard 
thing  for  a  man  to  get  his  rights  in  this  world. 

Mrs.  Himes  sat  on  one  end  of  a  black  hair-covered 
sofa  in  the  parlor,  and  Doctor  Wicker  sat  on  a  black 
hair-covered  chair  opposite  to  her  and  not  far 
away.  The  blinds  of  the  window  opening  upon  the 
garden  were  drawn  up;  but  those  on  the  front  win 
dow,  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  chestnut  tree, 
were  down.  Doctor  Wicker  had  just  made  a  proposal 
of  marriage  to  Mrs.  Himes,  and  at  that  moment  they 
were  both  sitting  in  silence. 

The  doctor,  a  bluff,  hearty-looking  man  of  about 


68  ASAPH 

forty-five,  had  been  very  favorably  impressed  by  Mrs. 
Himes  when  he  first  made  her  acquaintance,  during 
her  husband's  sickness,  and  since  that  time  he  had 
seen  her  occasionally  and  had  thought  about  her  a 
great  deal.  Latterly  letters  had  passed  between  them, 
and  now  he  had  come  to  make  his  declaration  in  person. 

It  was  true,  as  her  brother  had  said,  that  Marietta 
was  not  quick  in  making  up  her  mind.  But  in  this 
case  she  was  able  to  act  more  promptly  than  usual, 
because  she  had  in  a  great  measure  settled  this  matter 
before  the  arrival  of  the  doctor.  She  knew  he  was 
going  to  propose,  and  she  was  very  much  inclined  to 
accept  him.  This  it  was  which  had  made  her  smile 
when  she  was  setting  the  table  the  afternoon  before, 
and  this  it  was  which  had  prompted  her  to  make  her 
proposition  to  her  brother  in  regard  to  his  better 
personal  appearance. 

But  now  she  was  in  a  condition  of  nervous  trepida 
tion,  and  made  no  answer.  The  doctor  thought  this 
was  natural  enough  under  the  circumstances,  but  he 
had  no  idea  of  the  cause  of  it.  The  cause  of  it  was 
sitting  under  the  chestnut  tree,  the  bright  sunlight, 
streaming  through  a  break  in  the  branches  above, 
illuminating  and  emphasizing  and  exaggerating  his 
extreme  shabbiness.  The  doctor  had  never  seen 
Asaph,  and  it  would  have  been  a  great  shock  to 
Marietta's  self-respect  to  have  him  see  her  brother  in 
his  present  aspect. 

Through  a  crack  in  the  blind  of  the  front  window 
she  had  seen  Asaph  come  in  and  sit  down,  and  she  had 
seen  Mr.  Hooper  arrive  and  had  noticed  his  departure. 
And  now,  with  an  anxiety  which  made  her  chin  trem- 


ASAPH  69 

ble,  she  sat  and  hoped  that  Asaph  would  get  up  and 
go  away.  For  she  knew  that  if  she  should  say  to 
the  doctor  what  she  was  perfectly  willing  to  say  then 
and  there,  he  would  very  soon  depart,  being  a  man  of 
practical  mind  and  pressing  business ;  and  that,  going 
to  the  front  door  with  him,  she  would  be  obliged  to 
introduce  him  to  a  prospective  brother-in-law  whose 
appearance,  she  truly  believed,  would  make  him  sick. 
For  the  doctor  was  a  man,  she  well  knew,  who  was 
quite  as  nice  and  particular  about  dress  and  personal 
appearance  as  the  late  Mr.  Himes  had  been. 

Doctor  Wicker,  aware  that  the  lady's  perturbation 
was  increasing  instead  of  diminishing,  thought  it  wise 
not  to  press  the  matter  at  this  moment.  He  felt  that 
he  had  been,  perhaps,  a  little  over-prompt  in  making 
his  proposition.  "Madam,"  said  he,  rising,  "I  will 
not  ask  you  to  give  me  an  answer  now.  I  will  go 
away  and  let  you  think  about  it,  and  will  come  again 
to-morrow." 

Through  the  crack  in  the  window  blind  Marietta 
saw  that  Asaph  was  still  under  the  tree.  What  could 
she  do  to  delay  the  doctor?  She  did  not  offer  to  take 
leave  of  him,  but  stood  looking  upon  the  floor.  It 
seemed  a  shame  to  make  so  good  a  man  go  all  the  way 
back  to  Timberley  and  come  again  next  day,  just 
because  that  ragged,  dirty  Asaph  was  sitting  under 
the  chestnut  tree. 

The  doctor  moved  toward  the  door,  and  as  she  fol 
lowed  him  she  glanced  once  more  through  the  crack  in 
the  window  blind,  and,  to  her  intense  delight,  she  saw 
Asaph  jump  up  from  the  bench  and  run  around  to  the 
side  of  the  house.  He  had  heard  the  doctor's  foot- 


70  ASAPH 

steps  in  the  hallway  and  had  not  wished  to  meet  him. 
The  unsatisfactory  condition  of  his  outward  appear 
ance  had  been  so  strongly  impressed  upon  him  of  late 
that  he  had  become  a  little  sensitive  in  regard  to  it 
when  strangers  were  concerned.  But  if  he  had  only 
known  that  his  exceedingly  unattractive  garments  had 
prevented  his  sister  from  making  a  compact  which 
would  have  totally  ruined  his  plans  in  regard  to  her 
matrimonial  disposition  and  his  own  advantage,  he 
would  have  felt  for  those  old  clothes  the  respect  and 
gratitude  with  which  a  Eoman  soldier  regarded  the 
shield  and  sword  which  had  won  him  a  battle. 

Down  the  middle  of  the  garden,  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  there  ran  a  path,  and  along  this  path  Asaph 
walked  meditatively,  with  his  hands  in  his  trousers 
pockets.  It  was  a  discouraging  place  for  him  to  walk, 
for  the  beds  on  each  side  of  him  were  full  of  weeds, 
which  he  had  intended  to  pull  out  as  soon  as  he  should 
find  time  for  the  work,  but  which  had  now  grown  so 
tall  and  strong  that  they  could  not  be  rooted  up  with 
out  injuring  the  plants,  which  were  the  legitimate 
occupants  of  the  garden. 

Asaph  did  not  know  it,  but  at  this  moment  there 
was  not  one  person  in  the  whole  world  who  thought 
kindly  of  him.  His  sister  was  so  mortified  by  him 
that  she  was  in  tears  in  the  house.  His  crony,  Thomas, 
had  gone  away  almost-angry  with  him,  and  even  Betsey, 
whom  he  had  falsely  accused  of  rickets,  and  who  had 
often  shown  a  pity  for  him  simply  because  he  looked  so 
forlorn,  had  steeled  her  heart  against  him  that  morn 
ing  when  she  found  he  had  gone  away  without  pro 
viding  her  with  any  fuel  for  the  kitchen  fire. 


ASAPH  71 

But  ho  had  not  made  a  dozen  turns  up  and  down  the 
path  before  he  became  aware  of  the  feeling  of  Mari 
etta.  She  looked  out  of  the  back  door  and  then 
walked  rapidly  toward  him.  "Asaph,"  said  she,  "I 
hope  you  are  considering  what  I  said  to  you  yester 
day,  for  I  mean  to  stick  to  my  word.  If  you  don't 
choose  to  accept  my  offer,  I  want  you  to  go  back  to 
Drummondville  early  to-morrow  morning.  And  I 
don't  feel  in  the  least  as  if  I  were  turning  you  out  of 
the  house,  for  I  have  given  you  a  chance  to  stay  here, 
and  have  only  asked  you  to  act  like  a  decent  Chris 
tian.  I  will  not  have  you  here  disgracing  my  home. 
When  Doctor  Wicker  came  to-day,  and  I  looked  out 
and  saw  you  with  that  miserable  little  coat  with  the 
sleeves  half-way  up  to  the  elbows  and  great  holes  in 
it  which  you  will  not  let  anybody  patch,  because  you 
are  too  proud  to  wear  patches,  and  those  wretched 
faded  trousers,  out  at  the  knees,  and  which  have  been 
turned  up  and  hemmed  at  the  bottom  so  often  that 
they  are  six  inches  above  your  shoes,  and  your  whole 
scarecrow  appearance,  I  was  so  ashamed  of  you  that 
I  could  not  keep  the  tears  out  of  my  eyes.  To  tell 
a  respectable  gentleman  like  Doctor  Wicker  that  you 
were  my  brother  was  more  than  I  could  bear ;  and  I 
was  glad  when  I  saw  you  get  up  and  sneak  out  of  the 
way.  I  hate  to  talk  to  you  in  this  way,  Asaph,  but 
you  have  brought  it  on  yourself." 

Her  brother  looked  at  her  a  moment.  "  Do  you  want 
me  to  go  away  before  breakfast?"  he  said. 

"No,"  answered  Marietta,  "but  immediately  after 
ward."  And  in  her  mind  she  resolved  that  breakfast 
should  be  very  early  the  next  morning. 


72  ASAPH 

If  Asaph  had  any  idea  of  yielding,  lie  did  not  intend 
to  show  it  until  the  last  moment,  and  so  he  changed 
the  subject.  "What's  the  matter  with  Betsey?  "  said 
he.  "  If  she's  out  of  health  you'd  better  get  rid  of 
her." 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  with  Betsey,"  an 
swered  his  sister.  "Doctor  Wicker  came  to  see  me." 

"  Came  to  see  you !  "  exclaimed  her  brother.  "  What 
in  the  world  did  he  do  that  for?  you  never  told  me 
that  you  were  ailin'.  Is  it  that  sprain  in  your  ankle?  " 

"Nonsense,"  said  Marietta.  "I  had  almost  recov 
ered  from  that  sprain  when  you  came  here.  There's 
nothing  the  matter  with  my  ankle,  the  trouble  is 
probably  with  my  heart." 

The  moment  she  said  this  she  regretted  it,  for 
Asaph  had  so  good  a  head,  and  could  catch  meanings 
so  quickly. 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,  Marietta,"  said  Asaph. 
"That's  a  good  deal  more  serious." 

"  Yes,"  said  she.  And  she  turned  and  went  back  to 
the  house. 

Asaph  continued  to  walk  up  and  down  the  path. 
He  had  not  done  a  stroke  of  work  that  morning,  but 
he  did  not  think  of  that.  His  sister's  communication 
saddened  him.  He  liked  Marietta,  and  it  grieved  him 
to  hear  that  she  had  anything  the  matter  with  her 
heart.  He  knew  that  that  often  happened  to  people 
who  looked  perfectly  well,  and  there  was  no  reason 
why  he  should  have  suspected  any  disorder  in  her. 
Of  course,  in  this  case,  there  was  good  reason  for  her 
sending  for  the  very  best  doctor  to  be  had.  It  was  all 
plain  enough  to  him  now. 


AS  APR  73 

But  as  he  walked  and  walked  and  walked,  and 
looked  at  the  garden,  and  looked  at  the  little  orchard, 
and  looked  at  the  house  and  the  top  of  the  big  chest 
nut  tree,  which  showed  itself  above  the  roof,  a  thought 
came  into  his  mind  which  had  never  been  there  before 
—  he  was  Marietta's  heir.  It  was  a  dreadful  thing  to 
think  of  his  sister's  possible  early  departure  from  this 
world;  but,  after  all,  life  is  life,  reality  is  reality,  and 
business  is  business.  He  was  Marietta's  only  legal 
heir. 

Of  course  he  had  known  this  before,  but  it  had 
never  seemed  to  be  of  any  importance.  He  was  a 
good  deal  older  than  she  was,  and  he  had  always 
looked  upon  her  as  a  marrying  woman.  When  he 
made  his  proposition  to  Mr.  Eooper  the  thought  of  his 
own  heirship  never  came  into  his  mind.  In  fact,  if 
anyone  had  offered  him  ten  dollars  for  said  heirship, 
he  would  have  asked  fifteen,  and  would  have  afterward 
agreed  to  split  the  difference  and  take  twelve  and  a 
half. 

But  now  everything  had  changed.  If  Marietta  had 
anything  the  matter  with  her  heart,  there  was  no 
knowing  when  all  that  he  saw  might  be  his  own.  ISTo 
sooner  had  he  walked  and  thought  long  enough  for  his 
mind  to  fully  appreciate  the  altered  aspects  of  his 
future,  than  he  determined  to  instantly  thrust  out  Mr. 
Rooper  from  all  connection  with  that  future.  He 
would  go  and  tell  him  so  at  once. 

To  the  dismay  of  Betsey,  who  had  been  watching 
him,  expecting  that  he  would  soon  stop  walking  about 
and  go  and  saw  some  wood  with  which  to  cook  the 
dinner,  he  went  out  of  the  front  gate  and  strode 


74  ASAPH 

rapidly  into  the  village.  He  had  some  trouble  in 
rinding  Mr.  Booper,  who  had  gone  off  to  take  a  walk 
and  arrange  a  conversation  with  which  to  begin  his 
courtship  of  Mrs.  Himes,  but  he  overtook  him  under  a 
tree  by  the  side  of  the  creek.  "  Thomas/'  said  he,  "  I 
have  changed  my  mind  about  that  business  between 
us.  You  have  been  very  hard  on  me,  and  I'm  not 
goin'  to  stand  it.  I  can  get  the  clothes  and  things  I 
need  without  makin'  myself  your  slave  and  workin' 
myself  to  death,  and,  perhaps,  settin'  my  sister  agin 
me  for  life  by  try  in'  to  make  her  believe  that  black's 
white,  that  you  are  the  kind  of  husband  she  ought  to 
have,  and  that  you  hate  pipes  and  never  touch  spirits. 
It  would  be  a  mean  thing  for  me  to  do,  and  I  won't  do 
it.  I  did  think  you  were  a  generous-minded  man 
with  the  right  sort  of  feeling  for  them  as  wanted  to 
be  your  friends,  but  I  have  found  out  that  I  was  mis 
took,  and  I'm  not  goin'  to  sacrifice  my  sister  to  any 
such  person.  Now  that's  my  state  of  mind  plain  and 
square." 

Thomas  Kooper  shrunk  two  inches  in  height.  "  Asaph 
Scantle,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  which  seemed  also  to  have 
shrunk,  "  I  don't  understand  you.  I  wasn't  hard  on 
you.  I  only  wanted  to  make  a  fair  bargain.  If  I'd 
got  her,  I'd  paid  up  cash  on  delivery.  You  couldn't 
expect  a  man  to  do  more  than  that.  But  I  tell  you, 
Asaph,  that  I  am  mighty  serious  about  this.  The 
more  I  have  thought  about  your  sister  the  more  I 
want  her.  And  when  I  tell  you  that  I've  been 
a-thinkin'  about  her  pretty  much  all  night,  you  may 
know  that  I  want  her  a  good  deal.  And  I  was  in- 
tendin'  to  go  to-morrow  and  begin  to  court  her." 


ASAPH  75 

"Well,  you  needn't,"  said  Asapli.  "It  won't  do  no 
good.  If  you  don't  have  me  to  back  you  up  you  might 
as  well  try  to  twist  that  tree  as  to  move  her.  You 
can't  do  it." 

"But  you  don't  mean  to  go  agin  me,  do  you, 
Asapli?"  asked  Thomas,  ruefully. 

"  'Tain't  necessary,"  replied  the  other.  "You  will 
go  agin  yourself. " 

For  a  few  moments  Mr.  Rooper  remained  silent. 
He  was  greatly  discouraged  and  dismayed  by  what 
had  been  said  to  him,  but  he  could  not  yet  give  up 
what  had  become  the  great  object  of  his  life.  "  Asaph," 
said  he,  presently,  "  it  cuts  me  to  the  in'ards  to  think 
that  you  have  gone  back  on  me ;  but  I  tell  you  what 
I'll  do,  if  you  will  promise  not  to  say  anything  agin 
me  to  Mrs.  Himes,  and  not  to  set  yourself  in  any  way 
between  me  and  her,  I'll  go  along  with  you  to  the 
store  now  and  you  can  git  that  suit  of  clothes  and  the 
umbrella,  and  I'll  tell  'em  to  order  the  dictionary  and 
hand  it  over  to  you  as  soon  as  it  comes.  I'd  like  you 
to  help  me,  but  if  you  will  only  promise  to  stand  out 
of  the  way  and  not  hinder,  I'll  do  the  fair  thing  by 
you  and  pay  in  advance." 

"  Humph !  "  said  Asaph.  "  I  do  believe  you  think 
you  are  the  only  man  that  wants  Marietta." 

A  pang  passed  through  the  heart  of  Mr.  Rooper. 
He  had  been  thinking  a  great  deal  of  Mrs.  Himes 
and  everything  connected  with  her,  and  he  had  even 
thought  of  that  visit  of  Doctor  Wicker's.  That  gen 
tleman  was  a  widower  and  a  well-to-do  and  well-ap 
pearing  man ;  and  it  would  have  been  a  long  way  for 
him  to  come  just  for  some  trifling  rickets  in  a  servant- 


76  ASAPH 

girl.  Being  really  in  love,  his  imagination  was  in  a 
very  capering  mood,  and  lie  began  to  fear  that  the 
doctor  had  come  to  court  Mrs.  Himes.  "Asaph,"  he 
said  quickly,  "that's  a  good  offer  I  make  you.  If 
you  take  it,  in  less  than  an  hour  you  can  walk  home 
looking  like  a  gentleman." 

Asaph  had  taken  his  reed  pipe  from  his  coat  pocket 
and  was  tilling  it.  As  he  pushed  the  coarse  tobacco 
into  the  bowl,  he  considered.  "Thomas,"  said  he, 
"that  ain't  enough.  Things  have  changed,  and  it 
wouldn't  pay  me.  But  I  won't  be  hard  on  you.  I'm 
a  good  friend  of  yourn,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do. 
If  you  will  give  me  now  all  the  things  AVC  spoke  of 
between  us,  —  and  I  forgot  to  mention  a  cane  and 
pocket-handkerchiefs, — and  give  me,  besides,  that 
meerschaum  pipe  of  yourn,  I'll  promise  not  to  hinder 
you,  but  let  you  go  ahead  and  git  Marietta  if  you  kin. 
I  must  say  it's  a  good  deal  for  me  to  do,  knowin' 
how  much  you'll  git  and  how  little  you'll  give,  and 
knowin',  too,  the  other  chances  she's  got  if  she  wanted 
'em;  but  I'll  do  it  for  the  sake  of  friendship." 

"  My  meerschaum  pipe ! "  groaned  Mr.  E-ooper. 
"  My  Centennial  Exhibition  pipe !  "  His  tones  were 
so  plaintive  that  for  a  moment  Asaph  felt  a  little 
touch  of  remorse.  But  then  he  reflected  that  if 
Thomas  really  did  get  Marietta  the  pipe  would  be  of 
no  use  to  him,  for  she  would  not  allow  him  to  smoke 
it.  And,  besides,  realities  were  realities  and  business 
was  business.  "That  pipe  may  be  very  dear  to  you," 
he  said,  "  Thomas,  but  I  want  you  to  remember  that 
Marietta's  very  dear  to  me." 

This  touched  Mr.  Eooper,  whose  heart  was  sensitive 


ASAPH  77 

as  it  had  never  been  before.  "Come  along,  Asaph," 
he  said.  "You  shall  have  everything,  meerschaum 
pipe  included.  If  anybody  but  me  is  goin.'  to  smoke 
that  pipe,  I'd  like  it  to  be  my  brother-in-law."  Thus, 
with  amber-tipped  guile,  Mr.  Kooper  hoped  to  win 
over  his  friend  to  not  only  not  hinder,  but  to  help 
him. 

As  the  two  men  walked  away,  Asaph  thought  that 
he  was  not  acting  an  unfraternal  part  toward  Marietta, 
for  it  would  not  be  necessary  for  him  to  say  or  do 
anything  to  induce  her  to  refuse  so  unsuitable  a  suitor 
as  Thomas  Kooper. 

About  fifteen  minutes  before  dinner  —  which  had 
been  cooked  with  bits  of  wood  which  Betsey  had  picked 
up  here  and  there  —  was  ready,  Asaph  walked  into 
the  front  yard  of  his  sister's  house  attired  in  a  com 
plete  suit  of  new  clothes,  thick  and  substantial  in 
texture,  pepper-and-salt  in  color,  and  as  long  in  the 
legs  and  arms  as  the  most  fastidious  could  desire.  He 
had  on  a  new  shirt  and  a  clean  collar,  with  a  hand 
some  black  silk  cravat  tied  in  a  great  bow,  and  a  new 
felt  hat  was  on  his  head.  On  his  left  arm  he  carried 
an  overcoat,  carefully  folded,  with  the  lining  outside, 
and  in  his  right  hand,  an  umbrella  and  a  cane.  In  his 
pockets  were  half  a  dozen  new  handkerchiefs  and  the 
case  containing  Mr.  Hooper's  Centennial  meerschaum. 

Marietta,  who  was  in  the  hallway  when  he  opened 
the  front  door,  scarcely  knew  him  as  he  approached. 

"  Asaph !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  has  happened 
to  you?  Why,  you  actually  look  like  a  gentleman!  " 

Asaph  grinned.  "  Do  you  want  me  to  go  to  Drum- 
mondville  right  after  breakfast  to-morrow?  "  he  asked. 


78  ASAPH 

"My  dear  brother,"  said  Marietta,  "don't  crush  me 
by  talking  about  that.  But  if  you  could  have  seen 
yourself  as  I  saw  you,  and  could  have  felt  as  I  felt, 
you  would  not  wonder  at  me.  You  must  forget  all 
that.  I  should  be  proud  now  to  introduce  you  as  my 
brother  to  any  doctor  or  king  or  president.  But  tell 
me  how  you  got  those  beautiful  clothes." 

Asaph  was  sometimes  beset  by  an  absurd  regard  for 
truth,  which  much  annoyed  him.  He  could  not  say 
that  he  had  worked  for  the  clothes,  and  he  did  not 
wish  his  sister  to  think  that  he  had  run  in  debt  for 
them.  "They're  paid  for,  every  thread  of  'em,"  he 
said.  "I  got  'em  in  trade.  These  things  is  mine, 
and  I  don't  owe  no  man  a  cent  for  'em;  and  it  seems 
to  me  that  dinner  must  be  ready." 

"And  proud  I  am,"  said  Marietta,  who  never  before 
had  shown  such  enthusiastic  affection  for  her  brother, 
"to  sit  down  to  the  table  with  such  a  nice-looking 
fellow  as  you  are." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Eooper  came  into  Mrs. 
Himes's  yard,  and  there  beheld  Asaph,  in  all  the  glory 
of  his  new  clothes,  sitting  under  the  chestnut  tree 
smoking  the  Centennial  meerschaum  pipe.  Mr. 
Eooper  himself  was  dressed  in  his  very  best  clothes, 
but  he  carried  with  him  no  pipe. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Asaph,  "and  have  a  smoke." 

"Xo,"  replied  the  other;  "I  am  goin'  in  the  house. 
I  have  come  to  see  your  sister." 

"Goin'  to  begin  already?"  said  Asaph. 

"Yes,"  said  the  other;  "I  told  you  I  was  going  to 
begin  to-day." 

"Very  good,"  said  his  friend,  crossing  his  pepper- 


AS  APR  79 

and-salt  legs,  "  and  you  will  finish  the  17th  of  Augnst. 
That's  a  good,  reasonable  time." 

But  Mr.  Rooper  had  no  intention  of  courting  Mrs. 
Himes  for  a  month.  He  intended  to  propose  to  her 
that  very  morning.  He  had  been  turning  over  the 
matter  in  his  mind,  and  for  several  reasons  had  come 
to  this  conclusion.  In  the  first  place,  he  did  not 
believe  that  he  could  trust  Asaph,  even  for  a  single 
day,  not  to  oppose  him.  Furthermore,  his  mind  was 
in  such  a  turmoil  from  the  combined  effect  of  the 
constantly  present  thought  that  Asaph  was  wearing 
his  clothes,  his  hat,  and  his  shoes,  and  smoking  his 
beloved  pipe,  and  of  the  perplexities  and  agitations 
consequent  upon  his  sentiments  toward  Mrs.  Himes, 
that  he  did  not  believe  he  could  bear  the  mental  strain 
during  another  night. 

Five  minutes  later  Marietta  Himes  was  sitting  on 
the  horse-hair  sofa  in  the  parlor,  with  Mr.  Rooper  on 
the  horse-hair  chair  opposite  to  her,  and  not  very  far 
away,  and  he  was  delivering  the  address  which  he  had 
prepared. 

"Madam,"  said  he,  "I  am  a  man  that  takes  things 
in  this  world  as  they  comes,  and  is  content  to  wait 
until  the  time  comes  for  them  to  come.  I  was  well 
acquainted  with  John  Himes.  I  knowed  him  in  life, 
and  I  helped  lay  him  out.  As  long  as  there  was 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  late  Mr.  Himes  —  I  mean 
that  the  grass  over  the  grave  of  Mr.  Himes  had 
remained  unwithered,  I  am  not  the  man  to  take  one 
step  in  the  direction  of  his  shoes,  nor  even  to  consider 
the  size  of  'em  in  connection  with  the  measure  of  my 
own  feet.  But  time  will  pass  on  in  nater  as  well  as 


80  ASAPH 

in  real  life;  and  while  I  know  very  well,  Mrs.  Himes, 
that  certain  feelin's  towards  them  that  was  is  like  the 
leaves  of  the  oak  tree  and  can't  be  blowed  off  even  by 
the  fiercest  tempests  of  affliction,  still  them  leaves  will 
wither  in  the  fall  and  turn  brown  and  curl  up  at  the 
edges,  though  they  don't  depart,  but  stick  on  tight  as 
wax  all  winter  until  in  the  springtime  they  is  pushed 
off  gently  without  knowin'  it  by  the  green  leaves  which 
come  out  in  real  life  as  well  as  nater." 

When  he  had  finished  this  opening  Mr.  Rooper 
breathed  a  little  sigh  of  relief.  He  had  not  forgotten 
any  of  it,  and  it  pleased  him. 

Marietta  sat  and  looked  at  him.  She  had  a  good 
sense  of  humor  and,  while  she  was  naturally  surprised 
at  what  had  been  said  to  her,  she  was  greatly  amused 
by  it,  and  really  wished  to  hear  what  else  Thomas 
Rooper  had  to  say  to  her. 

"Now,  madam,"  he  continued,  "I  am  not  the  man 
to  thrash  a  tree  with  a  pole  to  knock  the  leaves  off 
before  their  time.  But  when  the  young  leaves  is 
pushin'  and  the  old  leaves  is  droppiii'  (not  to  make 
any  allusion,  of  course,  to  any  shrivellin'  of  proper 
respect),  then  I  come  forward,  madam,  not  to  take 
the  place  of  anybody  else,  but  jest  as  the  nateral  con 
sequence  of  the  seasons,  which  everybody  ought  to 
expect;  even  such  as  you,  madam,  which  I  may  liken 
to  a  hemlock-spruce  which  keeps  straight  on  in  the 
same  general  line  of 'appearance  without  no  reference 
to  the  fall  of  the  year,  nor  winter  nor  summer.  And 
so,  Mrs.  Himes,  I  come  here  to-day  to  offer  to  lead 
you  agin  to  the  altar.  I  have  never  been  there  myself, 
and  there  ain't  no  woman  in  the  world  that  I'd  go  with 


ASAPH  81 

but  you.  I'm  a  straightforward  person,  and  when  I've 
got  a  thing  to  say,  I  say  it,  and  now  I  have  said  it. 
And  so  I  set  here  awaitin'  your  answer." 

At  this  moment  the  shutters  of  the  front  window, 
which  had  been  closed,  were  opened,  and  Asaph  put 
in  his  head.  "Look  here,  Thomas  Eooper,"  he  said, 
"these  shoes  is  pegged.  I  didn't  bargain  for  no 
pegged  shoes;  I  wanted  'em  sewed;  everything  was 
to  be  first  class." 

Mr.  Eooper,  who  had  been  leaning  forward  in  his 
chair,  his  hands  upon  his  knees,  and  his  face  glisten 
ing  with  his  expressed  feelings  as  brightly  as  the  old- 
fashioned  but  shining  silk  hat  which  stood  on  the 
floor  by  his  side,  turned  his  head,  grew  red  to  the 
ears,  and  then  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Asaph  Scantle," 
he  cried,  with  extended  fist,  "you  have  broke  your 
word;  you  hindered." 

"No,  I  didn't,"  said  Asaph,  sulkily;  "but  pegged 
shoes  is  too  much  for  any  man  to  stand."  And  he 
withdrew  from  the  window,  closing  the  shutters  again. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  asked  Mrs.  Himes,  who 
had  also  risen. 

"It  means,"  said  Thomas,  speaking  with  difficulty, 
his  indignation  was  so  great,  "  that  your  brother  is  a 
person  of  tricks  and  meanders  beyond  the  reach  of 
common  human  calculation.  I  don't  like  to  say  this 
of  a  man  who  is  more  or  less  likely  to  be  my  brother- 
in-law,  but  I  can't  help  say  in'  it,  so  entirely  upset  am 
I  at  his  goin'  back  on  me  at  such  a  minute." 

"  Going  back  on  you?  "  asked  Mrs.  Himes.  "  What 
do  you  mean?  What  has  he  promised?" 

Thomas  hesitated.     He  did  not  wish  to  interrupt 


82  ASAPH 

his  courtship  by  the  discussion  of  any  new  question, 
especially  this  question.  "If  we  could  settle  what 
we  have  been  talkin'  about,  Mrs.  Hiines,"  he  said, 
"  and  if  you  would  give  me  my  answer,  then  I  could 
git  my  mind  down  to  commoner  things.  But  swingin' 
on  a  hook  as  I  am,  I  don't  know  whether  my  head  or 
my  heels  is  uppermost,  or  what's  revolvin'  around 
me." 

"Oh,  I  can  give  you  your  answer  quickly  enough," 
she  said.  "  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  marry  you,  so 
that's  all  settled." 

"Impossible  is  a  big  word,"  said  Mr.  Eooper. 
"  Has  anybody  else  got  afore  me  ?  " 

"I  am  not  bound  to  answer  that  question,"  said 
Marietta,  slightly  coloring ;  "  but  I  cannot  accept  you, 
Mr.  Hooper." 

"Then  there's  somebody  else,  of  course,"  said 
Thomas,  gazing  darkly  upon  the  floor.  "And  what's 
more,  Asaph  knew  it;  that's  just  as  clear  as  daylight. 
That's  what  made  him  come  to  me  yesterday  and  go 
back  on  his  first  bargain." 

"Now  then,"  said  Mrs.  Himes,  speaking  very  de 
cidedly,  "I  want  to  know  what  you  mean  by  this 
talk  about  bargains." 

Mr.  Eooper  knit  his  brows.  "  This  is  mighty  differ 
ent  talk,"  he  said,  "from  the  kind  I  expected  when  I 
come  here.  But  you  have  answered  my  question,  now 
I'll  answer  yours.  Asaph  Scantle,  no  longer  ago 
than  day  before  yesterday,  after  hearin'  that  things 
wasn't  goin'  very  well  with  me,  recommended  me  to 
marry  you,  and  agreed  that  he  would  do  his  level  best, 
by  day  and  by  night,  to  help  me  git  you,  if  I  would 


ASAPH  83 

give  him  a  suit  of  clothes,  an  umbrella,  and  a  dic 
tionary." 

At  this  Mrs.  Himes  gave  a  little  gasp  and  sat 
down. 

"Xow,  I  hadn't  no  thoughts  of  tradin'  for  a  wife," 
continued  Thomas,  "especially  in  woollen  goods  and 
books,  but  when  I  considered  and  turned  the  matter 
over  in  my  mind,  and  thought  what  a  woman  you  was, 
and  what  a  life  there  was  afore  me  if  I  got  you,  I 
agreed  to  do  it.  Then  he  wanted  pay  aforehand,  and 
that  I  wouldn't  agree  to,  not  because  I  thought  you 
wasn't  wuth  it,  but  -because  I  couldn't  trust  him  if 
anybody  offered  him  more  before  I  got  you.  But 
that  ain't  the  wust  of  it;  yesterday  he  come  down  to 
see  me  and  went  back  on  his  bargain,  and  that,  after 
I  had  spent  the  whole  night  thinkin'  of  you  and 
what  I  was  goin'  to  say.  And  he  put  on  such  high- 
cockalorum  airs  that  I,  bein'  as  soft  as  mush  around 
the  heart,  jest  wilted  and  agreed  to  give  him  every 
thing  he  bargained  for  if  he  would  promise  not  to 
hinder.  But  he  wasn't  satisfied  with  that  and 
wouldn't  come  to  no  terms  until  I'd  give  him  my 
Centennial  pipe,  what's  been  like  a  child  to  me  this 
many  a  year.  And  when  he  saw  how  disgruntled  I 
was  at  sich  a  loss,  he  said  that  my  pipe  might  be  very 
dear  to  me,  but  his  sister  was  jest  as  dear  to  him. 
And  then,  on  top  of  the  whole  thing,  he  pokes  his  head 
through  the  shutters  and  hinders  jest  at  the  most  tick 
lish  moment." 

"  A  dictionary  and  a  pipe !  "  ejaculated  poor  Mari 
etta,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor. 

"But  I'm  goin'  to  make  him  give  'em  all  back," 


84  ASAPH 

exclaimed  Thomas.  "They  was  the  price  of  not 
hindering  and  he  hindered." 

"He  shall  give  them  back/7  said  Marietta,  rising, 
"but  you  must  understand,  Mr.  Kooper,  that  in  no 
way  did  Asaph  interfere  with  your  marrying  me. 
That  was  a  matter  with  which  he  did  have  and  could 
have  nothing  to  do.  And  now  I  wish  you  could  get 
away  without  speaking  to  him.  I  do  not  want  any 
quarrelling  or  high  words  here,  and  I  will  see  him 
and  arrange  the  matter  better  than  you  can  do  it." 

"  Oh,  I  can  git  away  without  speakin'  to  him, "  said 
Mr.  Kooper,  with  reddened  face.  -  And  so  saying,  he 
strode  out  of  the  house,  through  the  front  yard  and 
out  of  the  gate  without  turning  his  head  toward 
Asaph,  still  sitting  under  the  tree. 

"  Oh,  ho,"  said  the  latter  to  himself,  "  she's  bounced 
him  short  and  sharp ;  and  it  serves  him  right,  too,  after 
playin'  that  trick  on  me.  Pegged  shoes,  indeed!  " 

At  this  moment  the  word  "  Asaph  "  came  from  the 
house  in  tones  shriller  and  sharper  and  higher  than 
any  in  which  he  had  ever  heard  it  pronounced  before. 
He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  went  to  the  house.  His 
sister  took  him  into  the  parlor  and  shut  the  door. 
Her  eyes  were  red  and  her  face  was  pale.  "Asaph," 
said  she,  "  Mr.  Rooper  has  told  me  the  whole  of  your 
infamous  conduct.  Now  I  know  what  you  meant 
when  you  said  that  you  were  making  arrangements  to 
get  clothes.  You  were  going  to  sell  me  for*  them. 
And  when  you  found  out  that  I  was  likely  to  marry 
Doctor  Wicker,  you  put  up  your  price  and  wanted  a 
dictionary  and  a  pipe." 

"No,   Marietta,"  said  Asaph,  "the  dictionary  be- 


ASAPII  85 

longed  to  the  first  bargain.     If  you  knew  how  I  need 
a  dictionary  —  " 

"Be  still!  "  she  cried.  "I  do  not  want  you  to  say 
a  word.  You  have  acted  most  shamefully  toward  me, 
and  I  want  you  to  go  away  this  very  day.  And  before 
you  go  you  must  give  back  to  Mr.  Rooper  everything 
that  you  got  from  him.  I  will  fit  you  out  with  some 
of  Mr.  Himes's  clothes  and  make  no  conditions  at  all, 
only  that  you  shall  go  away.  Come  up  stairs  with 
me,  and  I  will  get  the  clothes." 

The  room  in  the  garret  was  opened  and  various 
garments  which  had  belonged  to  the  late  Mr.  Himes 
were  brought  out. 

"This  is  pretty  hard  on  me,  Marietta,"  said  Asaph, 
as  he  held  up  a  coat,  "  to  give  up  new  all-wool  goods 
for  things  what  has  been  worn  and  is  part  cotton,  if  I 
am  a  judge." 

Marietta  said  very  little.  She  gave  him  what 
clothes  he  needed  and  insisted  on  his  putting  them 
on,  making  a  package  of  the  things  he  had  received 
from  Mr.  Rooper  and  returning  them  to  that  gentle 
man.  Asaph  at  first  grumbled,  but  he  finally  obeyed 
with  a  willingness  which  might  have  excited  the 
suspicions  of  Marietta  had  she  not  been  so  angry. 

With  an  enormous  package  wrapped  in  brown  paper 
in  one  hand  and  a  cane,  an  umbrella,  and  a  very  small 
hand-bag  in  the  other,  Asaph  approached  the  tavern. 
Mr.  Rooper  was  sitting  on  the  piazza  alone.  He  was 
smoking  a  very  common-looking  clay  pipe  and  gazing 
intently  into  the  air  in  front  of  him.  When  his  old 
crony  came  and  stood  before  the  piazza  he  did  not 
turn  his  head  nor  his  eyes. 


86 


ASAPH 


" Thomas  Booper,"  said  Asaph,  "you  have  got  me 
into  a  very  bad  scrape.  I  have  been  turned  out  of 
doors  on  account  of  what  you  said  about  me.  And 
where  I  am  goin'  I  don't  know,  for  I  can't  walk  to 
Drummondville.  And  what's  more,  I  kept  my  word 
and  you  didn't.  I  didn't  hinder  you;  for  how  could 
I  suppose  that  you  was  goin'  to  pop  the  question  the 
very  minute  you  got  inside  the  door?  And  that  dic 
tionary  you  promised  I've  not  got." 

Thomas  Booper  answered  not  a  word,  but  looked 
steadily  in  front  of  him.  "And  there's  another 
thing,"  said  Asaph.  "What  are  you  goin'  to  allow 
me  for  that  suit  of  clothes  what  I've  been  wearing 
what  I  took  off  in  your  room  and  left  there?  " 

At  this  Mr.  Booper  sprang  to  his  feet  with  such 
violence  that  the  fire  danced  out  of  the  bowl  of  his 
pipe.  "  What  is  the  fare  to  Drummondville?  "  he  cried. 

Asaph  reflected  a  moment.  "Three  dollars  and 
fifty  cents,  includin'  supper." 

"I'll  give  you  that  for  them  clothes,"  said  the 
other,  and  counted  out  the  money. 

Asaph  took  it  and  sighed.  "  You've  been  hard  on 
me,  Thomas,"  said  he,  "but  I  bear  you  no  grudge. 
Good  by." 

As  he  walked  slowly  toward  the  station  Mr.  Scantle 
stopped  at  the  store.  "Has  that  dictionary  come  that 
was  ordered  for  me?"  he  said;  and  when  told  that  it 
could  not  be  expected  for  several  days,  he  did  not 
despair,  for  it  was  possible  that  Thomas  Booper  might 
be  so  angry  that  he  would  forget  to  countermand  the 
order;  in  that  case  he  might  yet  hope  to  obtain  the 
coveted  book. 


ASAPH  87 

The  package  containing  the  Hooper  winter  suit  was 
heavy,  and  Asaph  walked  slowly.  He  did  not  want  to 
go  to  Drummondville,  for  he  hated  book-keeping,  and 
his  year  of  leisure  and  good  living  had  spoiled  him  for 
work  and  poor  fare.  In  this  moody  state  he  was  very 
glad  to  stop  and  have  a  little  chat  with  Mrs.  McJim- 
sey,  who  was  sitting  at  her  front  window. 

This  good  lady  was  the  principal  dressmaker  of  the 
village ;  and  by  hard  work  and  attention  to  business 
she  made  a  very  comfortable  living.  She  was  a  widow, 
small  of  stature,  thin  of  feature,  very  neatly  dressed 
and  pleasant  to  look  at.  Asaph  entered  the  little  front 
yard,  put  his  package  on  the  doorstep  and  stood  under 
the  window  to  talk  to  her.  Dressed  in  the  clothes  of 
the  late  Mr.  Himes,  her  visitor  presented  such  a 
respectable  appearance  that  Mrs.  McJimsey  was  not 
in  the  least  ashamed  to  have  people  see  him  standing 
there,  which  she  would  have  been  a  few  days  ago. 
Indeed,  she  felt  complimented  that  he  should  want  to 
stop.  The  conversation  soon  turned  upon  her  removal 
from  her  present  abode. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry  to  have  to  go,"  she  said;  "for 
my  time  is  up  just  in  the  middle  of  my  busy  season, 
and  that's  goin'  to  throw  me  back  dreadfully.  He 
hasn't  done  right  by  me,  that  Mr.  Hooper,  in  lettin' 
things  go  to  rack  and  ruin  in  this  way,  and  me  payin' 
his  rent  so  regular." 

"That's  true,"  said  Asaph.  "Thomas  Eooper  is 
a  hard  man  —  a  hard  man,  Mrs.  McJimsey.  I  can 
see  how  he  would  be  overbearin'  with  a  lone  woman 
like  you :  neither  your  son  nor  your  daughter  bein'  of 
age  yet  to  take  your  part." 


88  ASAPH 

"Yes,  Mr.  Scantle,  it's  very  hard." 

Asaph  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  a  little  bed  of 
zinnias  by  the  side  of  the  doorstep.  "  What  you  want, 
Mrs.  McJimsey,"  said  he,  "is  a  man  in  the  house." 

In  an  instant  Mrs.  McJimsey  flushed  pink.  It  was 
such  a  strange  thing  for  a  gentleman  to  say  to  her. 

Asaph  saw  the  flush.  He  had  not  expected  that 
result  from  his  remark,  but  he  was  quick  to  take 
advantage  of  it.  "Mrs.  McJimsey,"  said  he,  "you 
are  a  widow,  and  you  are  imposed  upon,  and  you  need 
somebody  to  take  care  of  you.  If  you  will  put  that 
job  into  my  hands  I  will  do  it.  I  am  a  man  what 
works  with  his  head,  and  if  you  will  let  me  I'll  work 
for  you.  To  put  it  square,  I  ask  you  to  marry  me. 
My  sister's  goin'  to  be  married,  and  I'm  on  the  pint 
of  goin'  away;  for  I  could  not  abear  to  stay  in  her 
house  when  strangers  come  into  it.  But  if  you  say 
the  word,  I'll  stay  here  and  be  yours  forever  and  ever 
more." 

Mrs.  McJimsey  said  not  a  word,  but  her  head 
drooped  and  wild  thoughts  ran  through  her  brain. 
Thoughts  not  wild,  but  well-trained  and  broken,  ran 
through  Asaph' s  brain.  The  idea  of  going  to  Drum- 
mondville  and  spending  for  the  journey  thither  a 
dollar  and  seventy-five  cents  of  the  money  he  had 
received  from  Mr.  Eooper  now  became  absolutely 
repulsive  to  him. 

"Mrs.  McJimsey,"  said  he,  " I  will  say  more.  Not 
only  do  I  ask  you  to  marry  me,  but  I  ask  you  to  do  it 
now.  The  evenin'  sun  is  settin',  the  evenin'  birds 
is  singin',  and  it  seems  to  me,  Mrs.  McJimsey,  that 
all  nater  pints  to  this  softenin'  hour  as  a  marryin' 


ASAPH  89 

moment.  You  say  your  son  won't  be  home  from  his 
work  until  supper  time,  and  your  daughter  has  gone 
out  for  a  walk.  Come  with  me  to  Mr.  Parker's,  the 
Methodist  minister,  arid  let  us  join  hands  at  the  altar 
there.  The  gardener  and  his  wife  is  always  ready  to 
stand  up  as  witnesses.  And  when  your  son  and  your 
daughter  comes  home  to  supper,  they  can  find  their 
mother  here  afore  'em  married  and  settled." 

"But,  Mr.  Scan  tie,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  McJimsey, 
"it's  so  suddint.  What  will  the  neighbors  say?" 

"As  for  bein'  suddint,  Mrs.  McJimsey,  I've  knowed 
you  for  nearly  a  year,  and  now,  bein'  on  the  way  to 
leave  what's  been  my  happy  home,  I  couldn't  keep 
the  truth  from  you  no  longer.  And  as  for  the  neigh 
bors,  they  needn't  knoAV  that  we  hain't  been  engaged 
for  months." 

"It's  so  queer,  so  very  queer,"  said  the  little  dress 
maker.  And  her  face  flushed  again,  and  there  were 
tears,  not  at  all  sorrowful  ones,  in  her  eyes ;  and  her 
somewhat  needle-pricked  left  hand  accidentally  laid 
itself  upon  the  window  sill  in  easy  reach  of  any  one 
outside. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Rooper,  being  of  a  practical 
way  of  thinking,  turned  his  thoughts  from  love  and 
resentment  to  the  subject  of  his  income.  And  he  soon 
became  convinced  that  it  would  be  better  to  keep  the 
McJimseys  in  his  house,  if  it  could  be  done  without 
too  great  an  outlay  for  repairs.  So  he  walked  over  to 
his  property.  When  he  reached  the  house  he  was 
almost  stupefied  to  see  Asaph  in  a  chair  in  the  front 
yard,  dressed  in  the  new  suit  of  clothes  which  he, 
Thomas  Kooper,  had  paid  for,  and  smoking  the  Cen 
tennial  pipe. 


90  ASAPH 

" Good  morning,  Mr.  Kooper,"  said  Asaph,  in  aloud 
and  cheery  voice.  "  I  suppose  you've  come  to  talk  to 
Mrs.  McJimsey  about  the  work  you've  got  to  do  here 
to  make  this  house  fit  to  live  in.  But  there  ain't  no 
Mrs.  McJimsey.  She's  Mrs.  Scantle  now,  and  I'm 
your  tenant.  You  can  talk  to  me." 

Doctor  Wicker  came  to  see  Mrs.  Himes  in  the  after 
noon  of  the  day  he  had  promised  to  come,  and  early 
in  the  autumn  they  were  married.  Since  Asaph 
Scantle  had  married  and  settled  he  had  not  seen  his 
sister  nor  spoken  to  her;  but  he  determined  that  on 
so  joyful  an  occasion  as  this  he  would  show  no  resent 
ment.  So  he  attended  the  wedding  in  the  village 
church  dressed  in  the  suit  of  clothes  which  had 
belonged  to  the  late  Mr.  Himes. 


MY   TERMINAL   MORAINE 


A  MAN'S  birth  is  generally  considered  the  most 
important  event  of  his  existence,  but  I  truly 
think  that  what  I  am  about  to  relate  was  more  impor 
tant  to  me  than  my  entrance  into  this  world ;  because, 
had  not  these  things  happened,  I  am  of  the  opinion 
that  my  life  would  have  been  of  no  value  to  me  and 
my  birth  a  misfortune. 

My  father,  Joshua  Cuthbert,  died  soon  after  I  came 
to  my  majority,  leaving  me  what  he  had  considered  a 
comfortable  property.  This  consisted  of  a  large  house 
and  some  forty  acres  of  land,  nearly  the  whole  of 
which  lay  upon  a  bluff,  which  upon  three  sides  de 
scended  to  a  little  valley,  through  which  ran  a  gentle 
stream.  I  had  no  brothers  or  sisters.  My  mother 
died  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  I,  Walter  Cuthbert,  was 
left  the  sole  representative  of  my  immediate  family. 

My  estate  had  been  a  comfortable  one  to  my  father, 
because  his  income  from  the  practice  of  his  profession 
as  a  physician  enabled  him  to  keep  it  up  and  provide 
satisfactorily  for  himself  and  me.  I  had  no  profes 
sion  and  but  a  very  small  income,  the  result  of  a  few 
investments  my  father  had  made.  Left  to  myself,  I 
felt  no  inducement  to  take  up  any  profession  or  busi- 

91 


92  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

ness.  My  wants  were  simple,  and  for  a  few  years  I 
lived  without  experiencing  any  inconvenience  from 
the  economies  which  I  was  obliged  to  practise.  My 
books,  my  dog,  my  gun,  and  my  rod  made  life  pass 
very  pleasantly  to  me,  and  the  subject  of  an  increase 
of  income  never  disturbed  my  mind. 

But  as  time  passed  on  the  paternal  home  began  to 
present  an  air  of  neglect  and  even  dilapidation,  which 
occasionally  attracted  my  attention  and  caused,  as  I 
incidentally  discovered,  a  great  deal  of  unfavorable 
comment  among  my  neighbors,  who  thought  that  I 
should  go  to  work  and  at  least  earn  money  enough  to 
put  the  house  and  grounds  in  a  condition  which  should 
not  be  unworthy  the  memory  of  the  good  Dr.  Cuth- 
bert.  In  fact,  I  began  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  shift 
less  young  man;  and,  now  and  then,  I  found  a  person 
old  enough  and  bold  enough  to  tell  me  so. 

But,  instead  of  endeavoring  to  find  some  suitable 
occupation  by  which  I  might  better  my  condition  and 
improve  my  estate,  1  fell  in  love,  which,  in  the  opinion 
of  my  neighbors,  was  the  very  worst  thing  that  could 
have  happened  to  me  at  this  time.  I  lived  in  a  thrifty 
region,  and  for  a  man  who  could  not  support  himself 
to  think  of  taking  upon  him  the  support  of  a  wife, 
especially  such  a  wife  as  Agnes  Havelot  would  be, 
was  considered  more  than  folly  and  looked  upon  as  a 
crime.  Everybody  knew  that  I  was  in  love  with  Miss 
Havelot,  for  I  went  to  court  her  as  boldly  as  I  went 
to  fish  or  shoot.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  about 
it,  and  this  finally  came  to  the  ears  of  Mr.  Havelot, 
my  lady's  father,  who,  thereupon,  promptly  ordered 
her  to  have  no  more  to  do  with  me. 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  93 

The  Havelot  estate,  which  adjoined  mine,  was  a 
very  large  one,  containing  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
acres;  and  the  Havelots  were  rich,  rich  enough  to 
frighten  any  poor  young  man  of  marrying  intent. 
But  I  did  not  appreciate  the  fact  that  I  was  a  poor 
young  man.  I  had  never  troubled  my  head  about 
money  as  it  regarded  myself,  and  I  now  did  not 
trouble  my  head  about  it  as  it  regarded  Agnes.  I 
loved  her,  I  hoped  she  loved  me,  and  all  other  con 
siderations  were  thrown  aside.  Mr.  Havelot,  how 
ever,  was  a  man  of  a  different  way  of  thinking. 

It  was  a  little  time  before  I  became  convinced  that 
the  decision  of  Agnes 's  father,  that  there  should  be 
no  communication  between  that  dear  girl  and  myself, 
really  meant  anything.  I  had  never  been  subjected 
to  restrictions,  and  I  did  not  understand  how  people 
of  spirit  could  submit  to  them ;  but  I  was  made  to 
understand  it  when  Mr.  Havelot,  finding  me  wander 
ing  about  his  grounds,  very  forcibly  assured  me  that 
if  I  should  make  my  appearance  there  again,  or  if  he 
discovered  any  attempt  on  my  part  to  communicate 
with  his  daughter  in  any  way,  he  would  send  her  from 
home.  He  concluded  the  very  brief  interview  by 
stating  that  if  I  had  any  real  regard  for  his  daughter's 
happiness  I  would  cease  attentions  which  would  meet 
with  the  most  decided  disapprobation  from  her  only 
surviving  parent,  and  which  would  result  in  exiling 
her  from  home.  I  begged  for  one  more  interview 
with  Miss  Havelot,  and  if  it  had  been  granted  I  should 
have  assured  her  of  the  state  of  my  affections,  no 
matter  if  there  were  reasons  to  suppose  that  I  would 
never  see  her  again;  but  her  father  very  sternly 


94  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

forbade   anything  of   the   kind,    and   I   went   away 
crushed. 

It  was  a  very  hard  case,  for  if  I  played  the  part  of 
a  bold  lover,  and  tried  to  see  Agnes  without  regard 
to  the  wicked  orders  of  her  father,  I  should  certainly 
be  discovered;  and  then  it  would  be  not  only  myself, 
but  the  poor  girl,  who  would  suffer.  So  I  determined 
that  I  would  submit  to  the  Havelot  decree.  ISTo  mat 
ter  if  I  never  saw  her  again,  never  heard  the  sound  of 
her  voice,  it  would  be  better  to  have  her  near  me,  to 
have  her  breathe  the  same  air,  cast  up  her  eyes  at  the 
same  sky,  listen  to  the  same  birds,  that  1  breathed, 
looked  at,  and  listened  to,  than  to  have  her  far  away, 
probably  in  Kentucky,  where  I  knew  she  had  rela 
tives,  and  where  the  grass  was  blue  and  the  sky  prob 
ably  green,  or  at  any  rate  would  appear  so  to  her  if  in 
the  least  degree  she  felt  as  I  did  in  regard  to  the  ties 
of  home  and  the  affinities  between  the  sexes. 

I  now  found  myself  in  a  most  doleful  and  even 
desperate  condition  of  mind.  There  was  nothing  in 
the  world  which  I  could  have  for  which  I  cared. 
Hunting,  fishing,  and  the  rambles  through  woods  and 
fields  that  had  once  been  so  delightful  to  me,  now 
became  tasks  which  I  seldom  undertook.  The  only 
occupation  in  which  I  felt  the  slightest  interest  was 
that  of  sitting  in  a  tower  of  my  house  with  a  tele 
scope,  endeavoring  to  see  my  Agnes  on  some  portion 
of  her  father's  grounds;  but,  although  I  diligently 
directed  my  glass  at  the  slightest  stretch  of  lawn  or 
bit  of  path  which  I  could  discern  through  openings 
in  the  foliage,  I  never  caught  sight  of  her.  I  knew, 
however,  by  means  of  daily  questions  addressed  to  my 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  95 

cook,  whose  daughter  was  a  servant  in  the  Havelot 
house,  that  Agnes  was  yet  at  home.  For  that  reason 
I  remained  at  home.  Otherwise,  I  should  have  be 
come  a  wanderer. 

About  a  month  after  I  had  fallen  into  this  most 
unhappy  state  an  old  friend  came  to  see  me.  We  had 
been  school-fellows,  but  he  differed  from  me  in  al 
most  every  respect.  He  was  full  of  ambition  and 
energy,  and,  although  he  was  but  a  few  years  older 
than  myself,  he  had  already  made  a  name  in  the 
world.  He  was  a  geologist,  earnest  and  enthusiastic 
in  his  studies  and  his  investigations.  He  told  me 
frankly  that  the  object  of  his  visit  was  twofold.  In 
the  first  place,  he  wanted  to  see  me,  and,  secondly,  lie 
wanted  to  make  some  geological  examinations  on  my 
grounds,  which  were  situated,  as  he  informed  me, 
upon  a  terminal  moraine,  a  formation  which  he  had 
not  yet  had  an  opportunity  of  practically  investigating. 
I  had  not  known  that  I  lived  on  a  moraine,  and  now 
that  I  knew  it,  I  did  not  care.  But  Tom  Burton 
glowed  with  high  spirits  and  lively  zeal  as  he  told  me 
how  the  great  bluff  on  which  my  house  stood,  together 
with  the  other  hills  and  wooded  terraces  which 
stretched  away  from  it  along  the  side  of  the  valley, 
had  been  formed  by  the  minute  fragments  of  rock  and 
soil,  which,  during  ages  and  ages,  had  been  gradually 
pushed  down  from  the  mountains  by  a  great  glacier 
which  once  occupied  the  country  to  the  northeast  of 
my  house.  "Why,  Walter,  my  boy,"  he  cried,  "if  I 
had  not  read  it  all  in  the  books  I  should  have  known 
for  myself,  as  soon  as  I  came  here* that  there  had 
once  been  a  glacier  up  there,  and  as  it  gradually 


06  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

moved  to  the  southwest  it  had  made  this  country 
what  it  is.  Have  you  a  stream  down  there  in  that 
dell  which  I  see  lies  at  right-angles  with  the  valley 
and  opens  into  it?" 

"No,"  said  I;  "I  wish  there  were  one.  The  only 
stream  we  have  flows  along  the  valley  and  not  on  my 
property." 

Without  waiting  for  me  Tom  ran  down  into  my 
dell,  pushed  his  way  through  the  underbrush  to  its 
upper  end,  and  before  long  came  back  flushed  with 
heat  and  enthusiasm. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "that  dell  was  once  the  bed 
of  a  glacial  stream,  and  you  may  as  well  clear  it  out 
and  plant  corn  there  if  you  want  to,  for  there  never 
will  be  another  stream  flowing  through  it  until  there 
is  another  glacier  out  in  the  country  beyond.  And 
now  I  want  you  to  let  me  dig  about  here.  I  want  to 
find  out  what  sort  of  stuff  the  glacier  brought  down 
from  the  mountains.  I  will  hire  a  man  and  will 
promise  you  to  fill  up  all  the  holes  I  make." 

I  had  no  objection  to  my  friend's  digging  as  much 
as  he  pleased,  and  for  three  days  he  busied  himself  in 
getting  samples  of  the  soil  of  my  estate.  Sometimes 
I  went  out  and  looked  at  him,  and  gradually  a  little 
of  his  earnest  ardor  infused  itself  into  me,  and  with 
some  show  of  interest  I  looked  into  the  holes  he  had 
made  and  glanced  over  the  mineral  specimens  he 
showed  me. 

"Well,  Walter,"  said  he,  when  he  took  leave  of 
me,  "I  am  very  sorry  that  I  did  not  discover  that 
the  glacier  had  raked  out  the  bed  of  a  gold-mine  from 
the  mountains  up  there  and  brought  it  down  to  you, 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  97 

or,  at  any  rate,  some  valuable  iron-ore.  But  I  am 
obliged  to  say  it  did  not  do  anything  of  the  sort.  But 
I  can  tell  you  one  thing  it  brought  you,  and,  although 
it  is  not  of  any  great  commercial  value,  I  should 
think  you  could  make  good  use  of  it  here  on  your 
place.  You  have  one  of  the  finest  deposits  of  gravel 
on  this  bluff  that  I  have  met  with,  and  if  you  were  to 
take  out  a  lot  of  it  and  spread  it  over  your  driveways 
and  paths,  it  would  make  it  a  great  deal  pleasanter 
for  you  to  go  about  here  in  bad  weather  and  would 
wonderfully  improve  your  property.  Good  roads 
always  give  an  idea  of  thrift  and  prosperity."  And 
then  he  went  away  with  a  valise  nearly  full  of  min 
eral  specimens  which  he  assured  me  were  very  inter 
esting. 

My  interest  in  geological  formations  died  away  as 
soon  as  Tom  Burton  had  departed,  but  what  he  said 
about  making  gravel  roads  giving  the  place  an  air  of 
thrift  and  prosperity  had  its  effect  upon  my  mind. 
It  struck  me  that  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing  if 
people  in  the  neighborhood,  especially  the  Havelots, 
were  to  perceive  on  my  place  some  evidences  of  thrift 
and  prosperity.  Most  palpable  evidences  of  unthrift 
and  impecuniosity  had  cut  me  off  from  Agnes,  and 
why  might  it  not  be  that  some  signs  of  improved 
circumstances  would  remove,  to  a  degree  at  least,  the 
restrictions  which  had  been  placed  between  us?  This 
was  but  a  very  little  thing  upon  which  to  build  hopes ; 
but  ever  since  men  and  women  have  loved  they  have 
built  grand  hopes  upon  very  slight  foundations.  I 
determined  to  put  my  roadways  in  order. 

My  efforts  in  this  direction  were  really  evidence  of 


98  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

anything  but  thriftiness,  for  I  could  not  in  the  least 
afford  to  make  my  drives  and  walks  resemble  the 
smooth  and  beautiful  roads  which  wound  over  the 
Havelot  estate,  although  to  do  this  was  my  intention, 
and  I  set  about  the  work  without  loss  of  time.  I  took 
up  this  occupation  with  so  much  earnestness  that  it 
seriously  interfered  with  my  observations  from  the 
tower. 

I  hired  two  men  and  set  them  to  work  to  dig  a 
gravel-pit.  They  made  excavations  at  several  places, 
and  very  soon  found  what  they  declared  to  be  a  very 
fine  quality  of  road-gravel.  I  ordered  them  to  dig  on 
until  they  had  taken  out  what  they  believed  to  be 
enough  to  cover  all  my  roads.  When  this  had  been 
done,  I  would  have  it  properly  spread  and  rolled.  As 
this  promised  to  be  a  very  good  job,  the  men  went  to 
work  in  fine  spirits  and  evidently  made  up  their  minds 
that  the  improvements  I  desired  would  require  a  vast 
deal  of  gravel. 

When  they  had  dug  a  hole  so  deep  that  it  became 
difficult  to  throw  up  the  gravel  from  the  bottom,  I. 
suggested  that  they  should  dig  at  some  other  place. 
But  to  this  they  objected,  declaring  that  the  gravel 
was  getting  better  and  better,  and  it  would  be  well  to 
go  on  down  as  long  as  the  quality  continued  to  be  so 
good.  So,  at  last,  they  put  a  ladder  into  the  pit,  one 
man  carrying  the  gravel  up  in  a  hod,  while  the  other 
dug  it ;  and  when  they  had  gone  down  so  deep  that 
this  was  no  longer  practicable,  they  rigged  up  a  der 
rick  and  windlass  and  drew  up  the  gravel  in  a  bucket. 

Had  I  been  of  a  more  practical  turn  of  mind  I  might 
have  perceived  that  this  method  of  working  made  the 


MY  TERMINAL   MORAINE  W 

job  a  very  long  and,  consequently,  to  the  laborers,  a 
profitable  one ;  but  no  such  idea  entered  into  my  head, 
and  not  noticing  whether  they  were  bringing  up  sand 
or  gravel  I  allowed  them  to  proceed. 

One  morning  I  went  out  to  the  spot  where  the 
excavation  was  being  made  and  found  that  the  men 
had  built  a  fire  on  the  ground  near  the  opening  of 
the  pit,  and  that  one  of  them  was  bending  over  it 
warming  himself.  As  the  month  was  July  this  natu 
rally  surprised  me,  and  I  inquired  the  reason  for  so 
strange  a  performance. 

"  Upon  my  soul,"  said  the  man  who  was  rubbing  his 
hands  over  the  blaze,  "  I  do  not  wonder  you  are  sur 
prised,  but  it's  so  cold  down  at  the  bottom  of  that  pit 
that  me  fingers  is  almost  frosted;  and  we  haven't 
struck  any  wather  neither,  which  couldn't  be  expected, 
of  course,  a-diggin'  down  into  the  hill  like  this." 

I  looked  into  the  hole  and  found  it  was  very  deep. 
"I  think  it  would  be  better  to  stop  digging  here," 
said  I,  "and  try  some  other  place." 

"I  wouldn't  do  that  just  now,"  said  the  other  man, 
who  was  preparing  to  go  down  in  the  bucket;  "to  be 
sure,  it's  a  good  deal  more  like  a  well  than  a  gravel- 
pit,  but  it's  bigger  at  the  top  than  at  the  bottom,  and 
there's  no  danger  of  its  cavin'  in,  and  now  that  we've 
got  everything  rigged  up  all  right,  it  would  be  a  pity 
to  make  a  change  yet  awhile." 

So  I  let  them  go  on;  but  the  next  day  when  I  went 
out  again  I  found  that  they  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  time  to  give  up  digging  in  that  hole. 
They  both  declared  that  it  almost  froze  their  feet  to 
stand  on  the  ground  where  they  worked  at  the  bottom 


100  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

of  the  excavation.  The  slow  business  of  drawing  up 
the  gravel  by  means  of  a  bucket  and  windlass  was, 
therefore,  reluctantly  given  up.  The  men  now  went 
to  work  to  dig  outward  from  this  pit  toward  the  edge 
of  the  bluff  which  overlooked  my  little  dell,  and 
gradually  made  a  wide  trench,  which  they  deepened 
until  —  and  I  am  afraid  to  say  how  long  they  worked 
before  this  was  done  —  they  could  walk  to  the  origi 
nal  pit  from  the  level  of  the  dell.  They  then  deepened 
the  inner  end  of  the  trench,  wheeling  out  the  gravel 
in  barrows,  until  they  had  made  an  inclined  pathway 
from  the  dell  to  the  bottom  of  the  pit.  The  wheeling 
now  became  difficult,  and  the  men  soon  declared  that 
they  were  sure  that  they  had  quite  gravel  enough. 

When  they  made  this  announcement,  and  I  had  gone 
into  some  financial  calculations,  I  found  that  I  would 
be  obliged  to  put  an  end  to  my  operations,  at  least  for 
the  present,  for  my  available  funds  were  gone,  or 
would  be  when  I  had  paid  what  I  owed  for  the  work. 
The  men  were  very  much  disappointed  by  the  sudden 
ending  of  this  good  job,  but  they  departed,  and  I  was 
left  to  gaze  upon  a  vast  amount  of  gravel  of  which, 
for  the  present  at  least,  I  could  not  afford  to  make  the 
slightest  use. 

The  mental  despondency  which  had  been  somewhat 
lightened  during  my  excavating  operations  now  re 
turned,  and  I  became  rather  more  gloomy  and  downcast 
than  before.  My  cook  declared  that  it  was  of  no 
use  to  prepare  meals  which  I  never  ate,  and  suggested 
that  it  would  save  money  if  I  discharged  her.  As 
I  had  not  paid  her  anything  for  a  long  time,  I  did  not 
see  how  this  would  benefit  me. 


MY  TERMINAL   MORAINE  10 J 

Wandering  about  one  day  with  my  hat  pulled  down 
over  my  eyes  and  my  hands  thrust  deep  into  my 
pockets,  I  strolled  into  the  dell  and  stood  before  the 
wide  trench  which  led  to  the  pit  in  which  I  had 
foolishly  sunk  the  money  which  should  have  supported 
me  for  months.  I  entered  this  dismal  passage  and 
walked  slowly  and  carefully  down  the  incline  until  I 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  original  pit,  where  I  had 
never  been  before.  I  stood  here  looking  up  and 
around  me  and  wondering  how  men  could  bring  them 
selves  to  dig  down  into  such  dreary  depths  simply  for 
the  sake  of  a  few  dollars  a  week,  when  I  involuntarily 
began  to  stamp  my  feet.  They  were  very  cold, 
although  I  had  not  been  there  more  than  a  minute.  I 
wondered  at  this  and  took  up  some  of  the  loose  gravel 
in  my  hand.  It  was  quite  dry,  but  it  chilled  my 
fingers.  I  did  not  understand  it,  and  I  did  not  try  to, 
but  walked  up  the  trench  and  around  into  the  dell 
thinking  of  Agnes. 

I  was  very  fond  of  milk,  which,  indeed,  was  almost 
the  only  food  I  now  cared  for,  and  I  was  consequently 
much  disappointed  at  my  noonday  meal  when  I  found 
that  the  milk  had  soured  and  was  not  fit  to  drink. 

"You  see,  sir,"  said  Susan,  "ice  is  very  scarce  and 
dear,  and  we  cannot  afford  to  buy  much  of  it.  There 
was  no  freezin'  weather  last  winter,  and  the  price  has 
gone  up  as  high  as  the  thermometer,  sir,  and  so,  between 
the  two  of  'em,  I  can't  keep  things  from  spoilin'." 

The  idea  now  came  to  me  that  if  Susan  would  take 
the  milk,  and  anything  else  she  wished  to  keep  cool 
in  this  hot  weather,  to  the  bottom  of  the  gravel-pit, 
she  would  find  the  temperature  there  cold  enough  to 
preserve  them  without  ice,  and  I  told  her  so. 


102  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

The  next  morning  Susan  came  to  me  with  a  pleased 
countenance  and  said,  "  I  put  the  butter  and  the  milk 
in  that  pit  last  night,  and  the  butter's  just  as  hard  and 
the  milk's  as  sweet  as  if  it  had  been  kept  in  an  ice 
house.  But  the  place  is  as  cold  as  an  ice-house,  sir, 
and  unless!  am  mistaken,  there's  ice  in  it.  Anyway, 
what  do  you  call  that?"  And  she  took  from  a  little 
basket  a  piece  of  grayish  ice  as  large  as  my  fist. 
"When  I  found  it  was  so  cold  down  there,  sir,"  she 
said,  "  I  thought  I  would  dig  a  little  myself  and  see 
what  made  it  so;  and  I  took  a  fire-shovel  and  hatchet 
and,  when  I  had  scraped  away  some  of  the  gravel,  I 
came  to  something  hard  and  chopped  off  this  piece  of 
it,  which  is  real  ice,  sir,  or  I  know  nothing  about  it. 
Perhaps  there  used  to  be  an  ice-house  there,  and  you 
might  get  some  of  it  if  you  dug,  though  why  anybody 
should  put  it  down  so  deep  and  then  cover  it  up,  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know.  But  as  long  as  there's  any  there, 
I  think  we  should  get  it  out,  even  if  there's  only  a 
little  of  it;  for  I  cannot  take  everything  down  to 
that  pit,  and  we  might  as  well  have  it  in  the  refriger 
ator." 

This  seemed  to  me  like  very  good  sense,  and  if  I 
had  had  a  man  I  should  have  ordered  him  to  go  down 
to  the  pit  and  dig  up  any  lumps  of  ice  he  might  find 
and  bring  them  to  the  house.  But  I  had  no  man,  and 
I  therefore  became  impressed  with  the  opinion  that  if 
I  did  not  want  to  drink  sour  milk  for  the  rest  of  the 
summer,  it  might  be  a  good  thing  for  me  to  go  down 
there  and  dig  out  some  of  the  ice  myself.  So  with 
pick-axe  and  shovel  I  went  to  the  bottom  of  the  pit 
and  set  myself  to  work. 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  103 

A  few  inches  below  the  surface  I  found  that  my 
shovel  struck  something  hard,  and,  clearing  away  the 
gravel  from  this  for  two  or  three  square  feet,  I  looked 
down  upon  a  solid  mass  of  ice.  It  was  dirty  and 
begrimed,  but  it  was  truly  ice.  With  my  pick  1 
detached  some  large  pieces  of  it.  These,  with  some 
discomfort,  I  carried  out  into  the  dell  where  Susan 
might  come  with  her  basket  and  get  them. 

For  several  days  Susan  and  I  took  out  ice  from  the 
pit,  and  then  I  thought  that  perhaps  Tom  Burton 
might  feel  some  interest  in  this  frozen  deposit  in  my 
terminal  moraine,  and  so  I  wrote  to  him  about  it.  He 
did  not  answer  my  letter,  but  instead  arrived  himself 
the  next  afternoon. 

"Ice  at  the  bottom  of  a  gravel-pit,"  said  he,  "is  a 
thing  I  never  heard  of.  Will  you  lend  me  a  spade 
and  a  pick-axe?  " 

When  Torn  came  out  of  that  pit  —  it  was  too  cold  a 
place  for  me  to  go  with  him  and  watch  his  proceedings 
—  I  saw  him  come  running  toward  the  house. 

"Walter,"  he  shouted,  "we  must  hire  all  the  men 
we  can  find  and  dig,  dig,  dig.  If  I  am  not  mistaken 
something  has  happened  on  your  place  that  is  wonder 
ful  almost  beyond  belief.  But  we  must  not  stop  to 
talk.  We  must  dig,  dig,  dig;  dig  all  day  and  dig  all 
night.  Don't  think  of  the  cost.  I'll  attend  to  that. 
I'll  get  the  money.  What  we  must  do  is  to  find  men 
and  set  them  to  work." 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  I.  "What  has  hap 
pened?" 

"I  haven't  time  to  talk  about  it  now;  besides  I 
don't  want  to,  for  fear  that  I  should  find  that  I  am 


104  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

mistaken.     But  get  on  your  hat,  my  dear  fellow,  and 
let's  go  over  to  the  town  for  men." 

The  next  day  there  were  eight  men  working  under 
the  direction  of  my  friend  Burton,  and  although  they 
did  not  work  at  night  as  he  wished  them  to  do,  they 
labored  steadfastly  for  ten  days  or  more  before  Tom 
was  ready  to  announce  what  it  was  he  had  hoped  to 
discover,  and  whether  or  not  he  had  found  it.  For  a 
day  or  two  I  watched  the  workmen  from  time  to  time, 
but  after  that  I  kept  away,  preferring  to  await  the 
result  of  my  friend's  operations.  He  evidently  ex 
pected  to  find  something  worth  having,  and  whether 
he  was  successful  or  not,  it  suited  me  better  to  know 
the  truth  all  at  once  and  not  by  degrees. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eleventh  day  Tom  came  into 
the  room  where  I  was  reading  and  sat  down  near  me. 
His  face  was  pale,  his  eyes  glittering.  "Old  friend," 
said  he,  and  as  he  spoke  I  noticed  that  his  voice  was 
a  little  husky,  although  it  was  plain  enough  that  his 
emotion  was  not  occasioned  by  bad  fortune  —  "my 
good  old  friend,  I  have  found  out  what  made  the 
bottom  of  your  gravel-pit  so  uncomfortably  cold.  You 
need  not  doubt  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  for  my 
excavations  have  been  complete  and  thorough  enough 
to  make  me  sure  of  what  I  say.  Don't  you  remember 
that  I  told  you  that  ages  ago  there  was  a  vast  glacier 
in  the  country  which  stretches  from  here  to  the  moun 
tains?  Well,  sir,  the  foot  of  that  glacier  must  have 
reached  further  this  way  than  is  generally  supposed. 
At  any  rate  a  portion  of  it  did  extend  in  this  direction 
as  far  as  this  bit  of  the  world  which  is  now  yours. 
This  end,  or  spur  of  the  glacier,  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  105 

mile  in  width,  I  should  say,  and  pushing  before  it  a 
portion  of  the  terminal  moraine  on  which  you  live, 
came  slowly  toward  the  valley  until  suddenly  it 
detached  itself  from  the  main  glacier  and  disappeared 
from  sight.  That  is  to  say,  my  boy  "  —  and  as  he 
spoke  Tom  sprang  to  his  feet,  too  excited  to  sit  any 
longer  —  "  it  descended  to  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  at 
least  for  a  considerable  distance  in  that  direction. 
Now  you  want  to  know  how  this  happened.  Well, 
I'll  tell  you.  In  this  part  of  the  country  there  are 
scattered  about  here  and  there  great  caves.  Geolo 
gists  know  one  or  two  of  them,  and  it  is  certain  that 
there  are  others  undiscovered.  Well,  sir,  your  glacier 
spur  discovered  one  of  them,  and  when  it  had  lain  over 
the  top  of  it  for  an  age  or  two,  and  had  grown  bigger 
and  bigger,  and  heavier  and  heavier,  it  at  last  burst 
through  the  rock  roof  of  the  cave,  snapping  itself  from 
the  rest  of  the  glacier  and  falling  in  one  vast  mass  to 
the  bottom  of  the  subterranean  abyss.  Walter,  it  is 
there  now.  The  rest  of  the  glacier  came  steadily 
down;  the  moraines  were  forced  before  it;  they  cov 
ered  up  this  glacier  spur,  this  broken  fragment,  and 
by  the  time  the  climate  changed  and  the  average  of 
temperature  rose  above  that  of  the  glacial  period,  this 
vast  sunken  mass  of  ice  was  packed  away  below  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  out  of  the  reach  of  the  action  of 
friction,  or  heat,  or  moisture,  or  anything  else  which 
might  destroy  it.  And  through  all  the  long  proces 
sion  of  centuries  that  broken  end  of  the  glacier  has 
been  lying  in  your  terminal  moraine.  It  is  there  now. 
It  is  yours,  Walter  Cuthbert.  It  is  an  ice-mine.  It 
is  wealth,  and  so  far  as  I  can  make  out,  it  is  nearly 


106  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

all  upon  your  land.  To  you  is  the  possession,  but  to 
me  is  the  glory  of  the  discovery.  A  bit  of  the  glacial 
period  kept  in  a  cave  for  us !  It  is  too  wonderful  to 
believe!  Walter,  have  you  any  brandy?" 

It  may  well  be  supposed  that  by  this  time  I  was 
thoroughly  awakened  to  the  importance  and  the  amaz 
ing  character  of  my  friend's  discovery,  and  I  hurried 
with  him  to  the  scene  of  operations.  There  he 
explained  everything  and  showed  me  how,  by  digging 
away  a  portion  of  the  face  of  the  bluff,  he  had  found 
that  this  vast  fragment  of  the  glacier,  which  had  been 
so  miraculously  preserved,  ended  in  an  irregularly 
perpendicular  wall,  which  extended  downward  he 
knew  not  how  far,  and  the  edge  of  it  on  its  upper  side 
had  been  touched  by  my  workmen  in  digging  their 
pit.  "  It  was  the  gradual  melting  of  the  upper  end  of 
this  glacier,"  said  Tom,  "  probably  more  elevated  than 
the  lower  end,  that  made  your  dell.  I  wondered  why 
the  depression  did  not  extend  further  up  toward  the 
spot  where  the  foot  of  the  glacier  was  supposed  to 
have  been.  This  end  of  the  fragment,  being  sunk  in 
deeper  and  afterward  covered  up  more  completely, 
probably  never  melted  at  all." 

"It  is  amazing  —  astounding,"  said  I ;  "but  what  of 
it,  now  that  we  have  found  it?" 

"What  of  it?"  cried  Tom,  and  his  whole  form 
trembled  as  he  spoke.  "You  have  here  a  source  of 
wealth,  of  opulence  which  shall  endure  for  the  rest  of 
your  days.  Here  at  your  very  door,  where  it  can  be 
taken  out  and  transported  with  the  least  possible 
trouble,  is  ice  enough  to  supply  the  town,  the  county, 
yes,  I  might  say,  the  State,  for  hundreds  of  years. 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  107 

No,  sir;  I  cannot  go  in.  to  supper.  I  cannot  eat.  I 
leave  to  you  the  business  and  practical  part  of  this 
affair.  I  go  to  report  upon  its  scientific  features." 

"Agnes,"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  walked  to  the  house 
with  my  hands  clasped  and  my  eyes  raised  to  the  sky, 
"  the  glacial  period  has  given  thee  to  me !  " 

This  did  not  immediately  follow,  although  I  went 
that  very  night  to  Mr.  Havelot  and  declared  to  him 
that  I  was  now  rich  enough  to  marry  his  daughter. 
He  laughed  at  me  in  a  manner  which  was  very  annoy 
ing,  and  made  certain  remarks  which  indicated  that 
he  thought  it  probable  that  it  was  not  the  roof  of  the 
cave,  but  my  mind,  which  had  given  away  under  the 
influence  of  undue  pressure. 

The  contemptuous  manner  in  which  I  had  been 
received  aroused  within  me  a  very  unusual  state  of 
mind.  While  talking  to  Mr.  Havelot  I  heard  not  far 
away  in  some  part  of  the  house  a  voice  singing.  It 
was  the  voice  of  Agnes,  and  I  believed  she  sang  so 
that  I  could  hear  her.  But  as  her  sweet  tones  reached 
my  ear  there  came  to  me  at  the  same  time  the  harsh, 
contemptuous  words  of  her  father.  I  left  the  house 
determined  to  crush  that  man  to  the  earth  beneath  a 
superincumbent  mass  of  ice  —  or  the  evidence  of  the 
results  of  the  ownership  of  such  a  mass  —  which 
would  make  him  groan  and  weep  as  he  apologized  to 
me  for  his  scornful  and  disrespectful  utterances  and 
at  the  same  time  offered  me  the  hand  of  his  daughter. 

When  the  discovery  of  the  ice-mine,  as  it  grew  to 
be  called,  became  generally  known  my  grounds  were 
crowded  by  sight-seers,  and  reporters  of  newspapers 
were  more  plentiful  than  squirrels.  But  the  latter 


108  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

were  referred  to  Burton,  who  would  gladly  talk  to 
them  as  long  as  they  could  afford  to  listen,  and  I  felt 
myself  at  last  compelled  to  shut  my  gates  to  the  first. 

I  had  offers  of  capital  to  develop  this  novel  source 
of  wealth,  and  I  accepted  enough  of  this  assistance  to 
enable  me  to  begin  operations  on  a  moderate  scale.  It 
was  considered  wise  not  to  uncover  any  portion  of  the 
glacier  spur,  but  to  construct  an  inclined  shaft  down 
to  its  wall-like  end,  and  from  this  tunnel  into  the  great 
mass.  Immediately  the  leading  ice  company  of  the 
neighboring  town  contracted  with  me  for  all  the  ice  I 
could  furnish,  and  the  flood-gates  of  affluence  began 
slowly  to  rise. 

The  earliest,  and  certainly  one  of  the  greatest, 
benefits  which  came  to  me  from  this  bequest  from  the 
unhistoric  past  was  the  new  energy  and  vigor  with 
which  my  mind  and  body  were  now  infused.  My  old, 
careless  method  of  life  and  my  recent  melancholy, 
despairing  mood  were  gone,  and  I  now  began  to  employ 
myself  upon  the  main  object  of  my  life  with  an  energy 
and  enthusiasm  almost  equal  to  that  of  my  friend  Tom 
Burton.  This  present  object  of  my  life  was  to  pre 
pare  my  home  for  Agnes. 

The  great  piles  of  gravel  which  my  men  had  dug 
from  the  well-like  pit  were  spread  upon  the  roadways 
and  rolled  smooth  and  hard;  my  lawn  was  mowed; 
my  flower-beds  and  borders  put  in  order;  useless 
bushes  and  undergrowth  cut  out  and  cleared  away;  my 
out-buildings  were  repaired,  and  the  grounds  around 
my  house  rapidly  assumed  their  old  appearance  of 
neatness  and  beauty.  Ice  Avas  very  scarce  that  sum 
mer,  and,  as  the  wagons  wound  away  from  the  opening 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  109 

of  the  shaft  which  led  down  to  the  glacier,  carrying 
their  loads  to  the  nearest  railway-station,  so  money 
came  to  me;  not  in  large  sums  at  first,  for  prepara 
tions  had  not  yet  been  perfected  for  taking  out  the  ice 
in  great  quantities,  but  enough  to  enable  me  to  go  on 
with  my  work  as  rapidly  as  I  could  plan  it.  I  set 
about  renovating  and  brightening  and  newly  furnish 
ing  my  house.  Whatever  I  thought  that  Agnes  would 
like  I  bought  and  put  into  it.  I  tried  to  put  myself 
in  her  place  as  I  selected  the  paper-hangings  and  the 
materials  with  which  to  cover  the  furniture. 

Sometimes,  while  thus  employed  selecting  orna 
ments  or  useful  articles  for  my  house,  and  using  as 
far  as  was  possible  the  taste  and  judgment  of  another 
instead  of  my  own,  the  idea  came  to  me  that  perhaps 
Agnes  had  never  heard  of  my  miraculous  good  for 
tune.  Certainly  her  father  would  not  be  likely  to 
inform  her,  and  perhaps  she  still  thought  of  me,  if 
she  thought  at  all,  as  the  poor  young  man  from  whom 
she  had  been  obliged  to  part  because  he  was  poor. 

But  whether  she  knew  that  I  was  growing  rich,  or 
whether  she  thought  I  was  becoming  poorer  and 
poorer,  I  thought  only  of  the  day  when  I  could  go  to 
her  father  and  tell  him  that  I  was  able  to  take  his 
daughter  and  place  her  in  a  home  as  beautiful  as  that 
in  which  she  now  lived,  and  maintain  her  with  all  the 
comforts  and  luxuries  which  he  could  give  her. 

One  day  I  asked  my  faithful  cook,  who  also  acted 
as  my  housekeeper  and  general  supervisor,  to  assist 
me  in  making  out  a  list  of  china  which  I  intended  to 
purchase. 

"Are   you   thinking   of  buying   china,    sir?"    she 


110  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

asked.  "We  have  now  quite  as  much  as  we  really 
need." 

"Oh,  yes/'  said  I,  "I  shall  get  complete  sets  of 
everything  that  can  be  required  for  a  properly  fur 
nished  household." 

Susan  gave  a  little  sigh.  "  You  are  spendin'  a  lot 
of  money,  sir,  and  some  of  it  for  things  that  a  single 
gentleman  would  be  likely  not  to  care  very  much 
about;  and  if  you  was  to  take  it  into  your  head  to 
travel  and  stay  away  for  a  year  or  two,  there's  a  good 
many  things  you've  bought  that  would  look  shabby 
when  you  come  back,  no  matter  how  careful  I  might 
be  in  dustin.'  'em  and  keepin'  'em  covered." 

"  But  I  have  no  idea  of  travelling,"  said  I.  "  There's 
no  place  so  pleasant  as  this  to  me." 

Susan  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  she 
said :  "  I  know  very  well  why  you  are  doing  all  this, 
and  I  feel  it  my  bounden  duty  to  say  to  you  that 
there's  a  chance  of  its  bein'  no  use.  I  do  not  speak 
without  good  reason,  and  I  would  not  do  it  if  I  didn't 
think  that  it  might  make  trouble  lighter  to  you  when 
it  comes." 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Susan?  what  do  you 
mean?" 

"  Well,  sir,  this  is  what  I  mean :  It  was  only  last 
night  that  my  daughter  Jane  was  in  Mr.  Havelot's 
dining-room  after  dinner  was  over,  and  Mr.  Havelot 
and  a  friend  of  his  were  sitting  there,  smoking  their 
cigars  and  drinking  their  coffee.  She  went  in  and 
come  out  again  as  she  was  busy  takiii'  away  the 
dishes,  and  they  paid  no  attention  to  her,  but  went 
on  talkin'  without  knowing,  most  likely,  she  was 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  111 

there.  Mr.  Havelot  and  the  gentleman  were  talkin' 
about  you,  and  Jane  she  heard  Mr.  Havelot  say  as 
plain  as  anything,  and  she  said  she  couldn't  be  mis 
taken,  that  even  if  your  nonsensical  ice-mine  proved 
to  be  worth  anything,  he  would  never  let  his  daughter 
marry  an  iceman.  He  spo'ke  most  disrespectful  of 
icemen,  sir,  and  said  that  it  would  make  him  sick  to 
have  a  son-in-law  whose  business  it  was  to  sell  ice  to 
butchers,  and  hotels,  and  grog-shops,  and  pork-pack 
ers,  and  all  that  sort  of  people ;  and  that  he  would  as 
soon  have  his  daughter  marry  the  man  who  supplied 
a  hotel  with  sausages  as  the  one  who  supplied  it  with 
ice  to  keep  those  sausages  from  spoiling.  You  see, 
sir,  Mr.  Havelot  lives  on  his  property  as  his  father 
did  before  him,  and  he  is  a  very  proud  man,  with  a 
heart  as  hard  and  cold  as  that  ice  down  under  your 
hand;  and  it's  borne  in  on  me  very  strong,  sir,  that 
it  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  you  to  keep  on  thinkin' 
that  you  are  gettin'  this  house  all  ready  to  bring  Miss 
Havelot  to  when  you  have  married  her.  For  if  Mr. 
Havelot  keeps  on  livin',  which  there's  every  chance 
of  his  doin',  it  may  be  many  a  weary  year  before  you 
get  Miss  Agnes,  if  you  ever  get  her.  And  havin' 
said  that,  sir,  I  say  no  more,  and  I  would  not  have 
said  this  much  if  I  hadn't  felt  it  my  bounden  duty  to 
your  father's  son  to  warn  him  that  most  likely  he  was 
workin'  for  what  he  might  never  get,  and  so  keep 
him  from  break  in'  his  heart  when  he  found  out  the 
truth  all  of  a  sudden." 

With  that  Susan  left  me,  without  offering  any 
assistance  in  making  out  a  list  of  china.  This  was 
a  terrible  story;  but,  after  all,  it  was  founded  only 


112  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

upon  servants'  gossip.  In  this  country  even  proud, 
rich  men  like  Mr.  Havelot  did  not  have  such  absurd 
ideas  regarding  the  source  of  wealth.  Money  is 
money,  and  whether  it  is  derived  from  the  ordinary 
products  of  the  earth,  from  which  came  much  of  Mr. 
Havelot's  revenue,  or  from  an  extraordinary  project 
such  as  my  glacier  spur,  it  truly  could  not  matter  so 
far  as  concerned  the  standing  in  society  of  its  posses 
sor.  What  utter  absurdity  was  this  which  Susan  had 
told  me !  If  I  were  to  go  to  Mr.  Havelot  and  tell  him 
that  I  would  not  marry  his  daughter  because  he  sup 
plied  brewers  and  bakers  with  the  products  of  his 
fields,  would  he  not  consider  me  an  idiot?  I  deter 
mined  to  pay  no  attention  to  the  idle  tale.  But,  alas! 
determinations  of  that  sort  are  often  of  little  avail. 
I  did  pay  attention  to  it,  and  my  spirits  drooped. 

The  tunnel  into  the  glacier  spur  had  now  attained 
considerable  length,  and  the  ice  in  the  interior  was 
found  to  be  of  a  much  finer  quality  than  that  first 
met  with,  which  was  of  a  grayish  hue  and  somewhat 
inclined  to  crumble.  When  the  workmen  reached  a 
grade  of  ice  as  good  as  they  could  expect,  they  began 
to  enlarge  the  tunnel  into  a  chamber,,  and  from  this 
they  proposed  to  extend  tunnels  in  various  directions 
after  the  fashion  of  a  coal-mine.  The  ice  was  hauled 
out  on  sledges  through  the  tunnel  and  then  carried  up 
a  wooden  railway  to  the  mouth  of  the  shaft. 

It  was  comparatively  easy  to  walk  down  the  shaft 
and  enter  the  tunnel,  and  when  it  happened  that  the 
men  were  not  at  work  I  allowed  visitors  to  go  down 
and  view  this  wonderful  ice-cavern.  The  walls  of 
the  chamber  appeared  semi-transparent,  and  the  light 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  113 

of  the  candles  or  lanterns  gave  the  whole  scene  a 
weird  and  beautiful  aspect.  It  was  almost  possible 
to  imagine  oneself  surrounded  by  limpid  waters, 
which  might  at  any  moment  rush  upon  him  and  en 
gulf  him. 

Every  day  or  two  Tom  Burton  came  with  a  party 
of  scientific  visitors,  and  had  I  chosen  to  stop  the 
work  of  taking  out  ice,  admitted  the  public  and 
charged  a  price  for  admission,  I  might  have  made 
almost  as  much  money  as  I  at  that  time  derived  from 
the  sale  of  the  ice.  But  such  a  method  of  profit  was 
repugnant  to  me. 

For  several  days  after  Susan's  communication  to 
me,  I  worked  on  in  my  various  operations,  endeavor 
ing  to  banish  from  my  mind  the  idle  nonsense  she 
had  spoken  of;  but  one  of  its  effects  upon  me  was  to 
make  me  feel  that  I  ought  not  to  allow  hopes  so  im 
portant  to  rest  upon  uncertainties.  So  I  determined 
that  as  soon  as  my  house  and  grounds  should  be  in  a 
condition  with  which  I  should  for  the  time  be  satis 
fied,  I  would  go  boldly  to  Mr.  Havelot,  and,  casting 
out  of  my  recollection  everything  that  Susan  had  said, 
invite  him  to  visit  me  and  see  for  himself  the  results 
of  the  discovery  of  which  he  had  spoken  with  sucli 
derisive  contempt.  This  would  be  a  straightforward 
and  business-like  answer  to  his  foolish  objections  to 
me,  and  I  believed  that  in  his  heart  the  old  gentleman 
would  properly  appreciate  my  action. 

About  this  time  there  came  to  my  place  Aaron 
Boyce,  an  elderly  farmer  of  the  neighborhood,  and, 
finding  me  outside,  he  seized  the  opportunity  to  have 
a  chat  with  me. 


114  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Cuthbert,"  said  he, 
"the  people  in  this  neighborhood  hasn't  give  you 
credit  for  what's  in  you.  The  way  you  have  fixed  up 
this  place,  and  the  short  time  you  have  took  to  do  it, 
is  enough  to  show  us  now  what  sort  of  a  man  you  are ; 
and  I  tell  you,  sir,  we're  proud  of  you  for  a  neighbor. 
I  don't  believe  there's  another  gentleman  in  this 
county  of  your  age  that  could  have  done  what  you 
have  done  in  so  short  a  time.  I  expect  now  you  will 
be  thinking  of  getting  married  and  startin'  house- 
keepin'  in  a  regular  fashion.  That  comes  just  as 
natural  as  to  set  hens  in  the  spring.  By  the  way, 
have  you  heard  that  old  Mr.  Havelot's  thinkin'  of 
goin'  abroad?  I  didn't  believe  he  would  ever  do  that 
again,  because  he's  gettin'  pretty  well  on  in  years, 
but  old  men  will  do  queer  things  as  well  as  young 
ones." 

"  Going  abroad!  "  I  cried.  "Does  he  intend  to  take 
his  daughter  with  him?" 

Mr.  Aaron  Boyce  smiled  grimly.  He  was  a  great 
old  gossip,  and  he  had  already  obtained  the  infor 
mation  he  wanted.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "I've  heard  it 
was  on  her  account  he's  going.  She's  been  kind  of 
weakly  lately,  they  tell  me,  and  hasn't  took  to  her 
food,  and  the  doctors  has  said  that  what  she  wants  is 
a  sea-voyage  and  a  change  to  foreign  parts." 

Going  abroad!  Foreign  parts!  This  was  more 
terrible  than  anything  I  had  imagined.  I  would  go 
to  Mr.  Havelot  that  very  evening,  the  only  time  which 
I  would  be  certain  to  find  him  at  home,  and  talk  to 
him  in  a  way  which  would  be  sure  to  bring  him  to  his 
senses,  if  he  had  any.  And  if  I  should  find  that  he 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  115 

had  no  sense  of  propriety  or  justice,  no  sense  of  his 
duty  to  his  fellow-man  and  to  his  offspring,  then  I 
would  begin  a  bold  fight  for  Agnes,  a  fight  which  I 
would  not  give  up  until,  with  her  own  lips,  she  told 
me  that  it  would  be  useless.  I  would  follow  her  to 
Kentucky,  to  Europe,  to  the  uttermost  ends  of  the 
earth.  I  could  do  it  now.  The  frozen  deposits  in  my 
terminal  moraine  would  furnish  me  with  the  means. 
I  walked  away  and  left  the  old  farmer  standing  grin 
ning.  No  doubt  my  improvements  and  renovations 
had  been  the  subject  of  gossip  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  he  had  come  over  to  see  if  he  could  find  out  any 
thing  definite  in  regard  to  the  object  of  them.  He 
had  succeeded,  but  he  had  done  more :  he  had  nerved 
me  to  instantly  begin  the  conquest  of  Agnes,  whether 
by  diplomacy  or  war. 

I  was  so  anxious  to  begin  this  conquest  that  I  could 
scarcely  wait  for  the  evening  to  come.  At  the  noon- 
hour,  when  the  ice-works  were  deserted,  I  walked 
down  the  shaft  and  into  the  ice-chamber  to  see  what 
had  been  done  since  my  last  visit.  I  decided  to  insist 
that  operations  upon  a  larger  scale  should  be  imme 
diately  begun,  in  order  that  I  might  have  plenty  of 
money  with  which  to  carry  on  my  contemplated  cam 
paign.  Whether  it  was  one  of  peace  or  war,  I  should 
want  all  the  money  I  could  get. 

I  took  with  me  a  lantern  and  went  around  the  cham 
ber,  which  was  now  twenty-five  or  thirty  feet  in 
diameter,  examining  the  new  inroads  which  had  been 
made  upon  its  walls.  There  was  a  tunnel  commenced 
opposite  the  one  by  which  the  chamber  was  entered, 
but  it  had  not  been  opened  more  than  a  dozen  feet, 


116  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  men  had  not  been  work 
ing  with  any  very  great  energy.  I  wanted  to  see  a 
Continuous  stream  of  ice-blocks  from  that  chamber  to 
the  mouth  of  the  shaft. 

While  grumbling  thus  I  heard  behind  me  a  sudden 
noise  like  thunder  and  the  crashing  of  walls,  and, 
turning  quickly,  I  saw  that  a  portion  of  the  roof  of 
the  chamber  had  fallen  in.  Nor  had  it  ceased  to  fall. 
As  I  gazed  several  great  masses  of  ice  came  down  from 
above  and  piled  themselves  upon  that  which  had 
already  fallen. 

Startled  and  frightened,  I  sprang  toward  the  open 
ing  of  the  entrance  tunnel;  but,  alas!  I  found  that 
that  was  the  point  where  the  roof  had  given  away, 
and  between  me  and  the  outer  world  was  a  wall  of 
solid  ice  through  which  it  would  be  as  impossible  for 
me  to  break  as  if  it  were  a  barrier  of  rock.  With  the 
quick  instinct  which  comes  to  men  in  danger  I  glanced 
about  to  see  if  the  workmen  had  left  their  tools ;  but 
there  were  none.  They  had  been  taken  outside. 
Then  I  stood  and  gazed  stupidly  at  the  mass  of  fallen 
ice,  which,  even  as  I  looked  upon  it,  was  cracking  and 
snapping,  pressed  down  by  the  weight  above  it,  and 
forming  itself  into  an  impervious  barrier  without 
crevice  or  open  seam. 

Then  I  madly  shouted.  But  of  what  avail  were 
shouts  down  there  in  the  depths  of  the  earth?  I  soon 
ceased  this  useless  expenditure  of  strength,  and,  with 
my  lantern  in  my  hand,  began  to  walk  around  the 
chamber,  throwing  the  light  upon  the  walls  and  the 
roof.  I  became  impressed  with  the  fear  that  the  whole 
cavity  might  cave  in  at  once  and  bury  me  here  in  a 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  117 

tomb  of  ice.  But  I  saw  no  cracks,  nor  any  sign  of 
further  disaster.  But  why  think  of  anything  more? 
Was  not  this  enough?  For,  before  that  ice-barrier 
could  be  cleared  away,  would  I  not  freeze  to  death? 

I  now  continued  to  walk,  not  because  I  expected 
to  find  anything  or  do  anything,  but  simply  to  keep 
myself  warm  by  action.  As  long  as  I  could  move 
about  I  believed  that  there  was  no  immediate  danger 
of  succumbing  to  the  intense  cold ;  for,  when  a  young 
man,  travelling  in  Switzerland,  I  had  been  in  the  cave 
of  a  glacier,  and  it  was  not  cold  enough  to  prevent 
some  old  women  from  sitting  there  to  play  the  zither 
for  the  sake  of  a  few  coppers  from  visitors.  I  could 
not  expect  to  be  able  to  continue  walking  until  I  should 
be  rescued,  and  if  I  sat  down,  or  by  chance  slept  from 
exhaustion,  I  must  perish. 

The  more  I  thought  of  it,  the  more  sure  I  became 
that  in  any  case  I  must  perish.  A  man  in  a  block  of 
ice  could  have  no  chance  of  life.  And  Agnes !  Oh, 
Heavens !  what  demon  of  the  ice  had  leagued  with  old 
Havelot  to  shut  me  up  in  this  frozen  prison?  For  a 
long  time  I  continued  to  walk,  beat  my  body  with  my 
arms,  and  stamp  my  feet.  The  instinct  of  life  was 
strong  within  me.  I  would  live  as  long  as  I  could, 
and  think  of  Agnes.  When  I  should  be  frozen  I  could 
not  think  of  her. 

Sometimes  I  stopped  and  listened.  I  was  sure  I 
could  hear  noises,  but  I  could  not  tell  whether  they 
were  above  me  or  not.  In  the  centre  of  the  ice- 
barrier,  about  four  feet  from  the  ground,  was  a  vast 
block  of  the  frozen  substance  which  was  unusually 
clear  and  seemed  to  have  nothing  on  the  other  side  of 


118  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

it;  for  through  it  I  could  see  flickers  of  light,  as 
though  people  were  going  about  with  lanterns.  It 
was  quite  certain  that  the  accident  had  been  discov 
ered;  for,  had  not  the  thundering  noise  been  heard  by 
persons  outside,  the  workmen  would  have  seen  what 
had  happened  as  soon  as  they  came  into  the  tunnel  to 
begin  their  afternoon  operations. 

At  first  I  wondered  why  they  did  not  set  to  work 
with  a  will  and  cut  away  this  barrier  and  let  me  out. 
But  there  suddenly  came  to  my  mind  a  reason  for  this 
lack  of  energy  which  was  more  chilling  than  the 
glistening  walls  around  me :  Why  should  they  suppose 
that  I  was  in  the  ice-chamber?  I  was  not  in  the  habit 
of  coming  here  very  often,  but  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
wandering  off  by  myself  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  This 
thought  made  me  feel  that  I  might  as  well  lie  down 
on  the  floor  of  this  awful  cave  and  die  at  once.  The 
workmen  might  think  it  unsafe  to  mine  any  further 
in  this  part  of  the  glacier,  and  begin  operations  at 
some  other  point.  I  did  sit  down  for  a  moment,  and 
then  I  rose  involuntarily  and  began  my  weary  round. 
Suddenly  I  thought  of  looking  at  my  watch.  It  was 
nearly  five  o'clock.  I  had  been  more  than  four  hours 
in  that  dreadful  place,  and  I  did  not  believe  that  I 
could  continue  to  exercise  my  limbs  very  much  longer. 
The  lights  I  had  seen  had  ceased.  It  was  quite  plain 
that  the  workmen  had  no  idea  that  any  one  was  im 
prisoned  in  the  cave. 

But  soon  after  I  had  come  to  this  conclusion  I  saw 
through  the  clear  block  of  ice  a  speck  of  light,  and  it 
became  stronger  and  stronger,  until  I  believed  it  to  be 
close  to  the  other  side  of  the  block.  There  it  remained 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  119 

stationary;  but  tliGre  seemed  to  be  other  points  of 
light  which  moved  about  in  a  strange  way,  and  near 
it.  Now  I  stood  by  the  block  watching.  When  my 
feet  became  very  cold,  I  stamped  them;  but  there  I 
stood  fascinated,  for  what  I  saw  was  truly  surprising. 
A  large  coal  of  tire  appeared  on  the  other  side  of  the 
block;  then  it  suddenly  vanished  and  was  succeeded 
by  another  coal.  This  disappeared,  and  another  took 
its  place,  each  one  seeming  to  come  nearer  and  nearer 
to  me.  Again  and  again  did  these  coals  appear.  They 
reached  the  centre  of  the  block;  they  approached  my 
side  of  it.  At  last  one  was  so  near  to  me  that  I 
thought  it  was  about  to  break  through,  but  it  van 
ished.  Then  there  came  a  few  quick  thuds  and  the 
end  of  a  piece  of  iron  protruded  from  the  block.  This 
was  withdrawn,  and  through  the  aperture  there  came 
a  voice  which  said :  "  Mr.  Cuthbert,  are  you  in  there?  " 
It  was  the  voice  of  Agnes ! 

Weak  and  cold  as  I  was,  fire  and  energy  rushed 
through  me  at  these  words.  "Yes,"  I  exclaimed,  my 
mouth  to  the  hole;  "Agnes,  is  that  you?" 

"Wait  a  minute,"  came  from  the  other  side  of  the 
aperture.  "I  must  make  it  bigger.  I  must  keep  it 
from  closing  up." 

Again  came  the  coals  of  fire,  running  backward  and 
forward  through  the  long  hole  in  the  block  of  ice.  I 
could  see  now  what  they  were.  They  were  irons  used 
by  plumbers  for  melting  solder  and  that  sort  of  thing, 
and  Agnes  was  probably  heating  them  in  a  little  fur 
nace  outside,  and  withdrawing  them  as  fast  as  they 
cooled.  It  was  not  long  before  the  aperture  was  very 
much  enlarged;  and  then  there  came  grating  through 


120  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

it  a  long  tin  tube  nearly  two  inches  in  diameter,  which 
almost,  but  not  quite,  reached  my  side  of  the  block. 

Now  came  again  the  voice  of  Agnes :  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Cuthbert,  are  you  truly  there?  Are  you  crushed? 
Are  you  wounded?  Are  you  nearly  frozen?  Are  you 
starved?  Tell  me  quickly  if  you  are  yet  safe." 

Had  I  stood  in  a  palace  padded  with  the  softest  silk 
and  filled  with  spicy  odors  from  a  thousand  rose- 
gardens,  I  could  not  have  been  better  satisfied  with 
my  surroundings  than  I  was  at  that  moment.  Agnes 
was  not  two  feet  away !  She  Avas  telling  me  that  she 
cared  for  me !  In  a  very  few  words  I  assured  her  that 
I  was  uninjured.  Then  I  Avas  on  the  point  of  telling 
her  I  loved  her,  for  I  believed  that  not  a  moment 
should  be  lost  in  making  this  avoAval.  I  could  not  die 
\vithout  her  knoAving  that.  But  the  appearance  of  a 
mass  of  paper  at  the  other  end  of  the  tube  prevented 
the  expression  of  my  sentiments.  This  was  sloAvly 
pushed  on  until  I  could  reach  it.  Then  there  came 
the  Avords:  "Mr.  Cuthbert,  these  are  sandAviches. 
Eat  them  immediately  and  Avalk  about  while  you  are 
doing  it.  You  must  keep  yourself  Avarni  until  the 
men  get  to  you." 

Obedient  to  the  slightest  wish  of  this  dear  creature, 
I  went  tAvice  around  the  cave,  devouring  the  sandwiches 
as  I  Avalked.  They  Avere  the  most  delicious  food  that 
I  had  ever  tasted.  They  AArere  given  to  me  by  Agnes. 
I  came  back  to  the  opening.  I  could  not  immediately 
begin  my  avowal.  I  must  ask  a  question  first.  "Can 
they  get  to  me?  "  I  inquired.  "  Is  anybody  trying  to 
do  that?  Arc  they  working  there  by  you?  I  do  not 
hear  them  at  all." 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  121 

"Oh,  no,"  she  answered;  "they  are  not  working 
here.  They  are  on  top  of  the  bluff,  trying  to  dig  down 
to  you.  They  were  afraid  to  meddle  with  the  ice  here 
for  fear  that  more  of  it  might  come  down  and  crush 
you  and  the  men,  too.  Oh,  there  has  been  a  dread 
ful  excitement  since  it  was  found  that  you  were  in 
there!" 

"  How  could  they  know  I  was  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"It  was  your  old  Susan  who  first  thought  of  it. 
She  saw  you  walking  toward  the  shaft  about  noon, 
and  then  she  remembered  that  she  had  not  seen  you 
again;  and  when  they  came  into  the  tunnel  here  they 
found  one  of  the  lanterns  gone  and  the  big  stick  you 
generally  carry  lying  where  the  lantern  had  been. 
Then  it  was  known  that  you  must  be  inside.  Oh, 
then  there  was  an  awful  time !  The  foreman  of  the 
icemen  examined  everything,  and  said  they  must  dig 
down  to  you  from  above.  He  put  his  men  to  work; 
but  they  could  do  very  little,  for  they  had  hardly  any 
spades.  Then  they  sent  into  town  for  help  and  over 
to  the  new  park  for  the  Italians  working  there.  From 
the  way  these  men  set  to  work  you  might  have  thought 
that  they  would  dig  away  the  whole  bluff  in  about  five 
minutes;  but  they  didn't.  ISTobody  seemed  to  know 
what  to  do,  or  how  to  get  to  work;  and  the  hole  they 
made  when  they  did  begin  was  filled  up  with  men 
almost  as  fast  as  they  threw  out  the  stones  and  gravel. 
I  don't  believe  anything  would  have  been  done  properly 
if  your  friend,  Mr.  Burton,  hadn't  happened  to  come 
with  two  scientific  gentlemen,  and  since  that  he  has 
been  directing  everything.  You  can't  think  what  a 
splendid  fellow  he  is !  I  fairly  adored  him  when  I 


122  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

saw  him  giving  his  orders  and  making  everybody  skip 
around  in  the  right  way.'5 

"Tom  is  a  very  good  man/'  said  I;  "but  it  is  his 
business  to  direct  that  sort  of  work,  and  it  is  not  sur 
prising  that  he  knows  how  to  do  it.  But,  Agnes,  they 
may  never  get  down  to  me,  and  we  do  not  know  that 
this  roof  may  not  cave  in  upon  me  at  any  moment; 
and  before  this  or  anything  else  happens  I  want  to  tell 
you-" 

"Mr.  Cuthbert,"  said  Agnes,  "is  there  plenty  of  oil 
in  your  lantern?  It  would  be  dreadful  if  it  were  to 
go  out  and  leave  you  there  in  the  dark.  I  thought  of 
that  and  brought  you  a  little  bottle  of  kerosene  so  that 
you  can  fill  it.  I  am  going  to  push  the  bottle  through 
now,  if  you  please."  And  with  this  a  large  phial, 
cork-end  foremost,  came  slowly  through  the  tube,  pro 
pelled  by  one  of  the  soldering-irons.  Then  came 
Agnes's  voice:  "Please  fill  your  lantern  immediately, 
because  if  it  goes  out  you  cannot  find  it  in  the  dark; 
and  then  walk  several  times  around  the  cave,  for  you 
have  been  standing  still  too  long  already." 

I  obeyed  these  injunctions,  but  in  two  or  three 
minutes  was  again  at  the  end  of  the  tube.  "Agnes," 
said  I,  "  how  did  you  happen  to  come  here?  Did  you 
contrive  in  your  own  mind  this  method  of  communi 
cating  with  me?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  I  did,"  she  said.  "Everybody  said  that 
this  mass  of  ice  must  not  be  meddled  with,  but  I  knew 
very  well  it  would  not  hurt  it  to  make  a  hole  through 
it." 

"But  how  did  you  happen  to  be  here?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  ran  over  as  soon  as  I  heard  of  the  accident. 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  123 

Everybody  ran  here.  The  whole  neighborhood  is  on 
top  of  the  bluff;  but  nobody  wanted  to  come  into  the 
tunnel,  because  they  were  afraid  that  more  of  it  might 
fall  in.  So  I  was  able  to  work  here  all  by  myself, 
and  I  am  very  glad  of  it.  I  saw  the  soldering-iron 
and  the  little  furnace  outside  of  your  house  where  the 
plumbers  had  been  using  them,  and  I  brought  them 
here  myself.  Then  I  thought  that  a  simple  hole 
through  the  ice  might  soon  freeze  up  again,  and  if  you 
were  alive  inside  I  could  not  do  anything  to  help  you; 
and  so  I  ran  home  and  got  my  diploma-case,  that  had 
had  one  end  melted  out  of  it,  and  I  brought  that  to 
stick  in  the  hole.  I'm  so  glad  that  it  is  long  enough, 
or  almost." 

"Oh,  Agnes,"  I  cried,  "you  thought  of  all  this  for 
me?" 

"Why,  of  course,  Mr.  Cuthbert,"  she  answered, 
before  I  had  a  chance  to  say  anything  more.  "  You 
were  in  great  danger  of  perishing  before  the  men  got 
to  you,  and  nobody  seemed  to  think  of  any  way  to 
give  you  immediate  relief.  And  don't  you  think  that 
a  collegiate  education  is  a  good  thing  for  girls  —  at 
least,  that  it  was  for  me?" 

"Agnes,"  I  exclaimed;  "please  let  me  speak.  I 
want  to  tell  you,  I  must  tell  you  —  " 

But  the  voice  of  Agnes  was  clearer  than  mine  and 
it  overpowered  my  words.  "Mr.  Cuthbert,"  she  said, 
"we  cannot  both  speak  through  this  tube  at  the  same 
time  in  opposite  directions.  I  have  here  a  bottle  of 
water  for  you,  but  I  am  very  much  afraid  it  will  not 
go  through  the  diploma-case." 

"Oh,   I  don't  want  any  water,"  I  said.     "I  can 


124  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

eat  ice  if  I  am  thirsty.  What  I  want  is  to  tell 
you  —  " 

"  Mr.  Cuthbert, "  said  she,  "  you  must  not  eat  that 
ice.  Water  that  was  frozen  countless  ages  ago  may 
be  very  different  from  the  water  of  modern  times,  and 
might  not  agree  with  you.  Don't  touch  it,  please.  I 
am  going  to  push  the  bottle  through  if  I  can.  I  tried 
to  think  of  everything  that  you  might  need  and 
brought  them  all  at  once ;  because,  if  I  could  not  keep 
the  hole  open,  I  wanted  to  get  them  to  you  without 
losing  a  minute." 

Now  the  bottle  came  slowly  through.  It  was  a 
small  beer-bottle,  I  think,  and  several  times  I  was 
afraid  it  was  going  to  stick  fast  and  cut  off  communi 
cation  between  me  and  the  outer  world ;  that  is  to  say, 
between  me  and  Agnes.  But  at  last  the  cork  and  the 
neck  appeared,  and  I  pulled  it  through.  I  did  not 
drink  any  of  it,  but  immediately  applied  my  mouth 
to  the  tube. 

"Agnes,"  I  said;  "my  dear  Agnes,  really  you  must 
not  prevent  me  from  speaking.  I  cannot  delay  another 
minute.  This  is  an  awful  position  for  me  to  be  in, 
and  as  you  don't  seem  to  realize  —  " 

"  But  I  do  realize,  Mr.  Cuthbert,  that  if  you  don't 
walk  about  you  will  certainly  freeze  before  you  can  be 
rescued.  Between  every  two  or  three  words  you  want 
to  take  at  least  one  turn  around  that  place.  How 
dreadful  it  would  be  if  you  were  suddenly  to  become 
benumbed  and  stiff!  Everybody  is  thinking  of  that. 
The  best  diggers  that  Mr.  Burton  had  were  three 
colored  men;  but  after  they  had  gone  down  nothing 
like  as  deep  as  a  well,  they  came  up  frightened  and 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  125 

said  they  would  not  dig  another  shovelful  for  the 
whole  world.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  it,  but  there's 
a  story  about  the  neighborhood  that  the  negro  hell  is 
under  your  property.  You  know  many  of  the  colored 
people  expect  to  be  everlastingly  punished  with  ice 
and  not  with  fire  —  " 

"Agnes,"  I  interrupted,  "I  am  punished  with  ice 
and  fire  both.  Please  let  me  tell  you  —  " 

"I  was  going  on  to  say,  Mr.  Cuthbert,"  she  inter 
rupted,  "  that  when  the  Italians  heard  why  the  colored 
men  had  come  out  of  the  hole  they  would  not  go  in 
either,  for  they  are  just  as  afraid  of  everlasting  ice  as  the 
negroes  are,  and  were  sure  that  if  the  bottom  came  out 
of  that  hole  they  would  fall  into  a  frozen  lower  world. 
So  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  send  for  paupers, 
and  they  are  working  now.  You  know  paupers  have 
to  do  what  they  are  told  without  regard  to  their 
beliefs.  They  got  a  dozen  of  them  from  the  poor- 
house.  Somebody  said  they  just  threw  them  into  the 
hole.  Now  I  must  stop  talking,  for  it  is  time  for 
you  to  walk  around  again.  Would  you  like  another 
sandwich?" 

"  Agnes, "  said  I,  endeavoring  to  speak  calmly,  "  all 
I  want  is  to  be  able  to  tell  you  —  " 

"  And  when  you  walk,  Mr.  Cuthbert,  you  had  better 
keep  around  the  edge  of  the  chamber,  for  there  is  no 
knowing  when  they  may  come  through.  Mr.  Burton 
and  the  foreman  of  the  icemen  measured  the  bluff  so 
that  they  say  the  hole  they  are  making  is  exactly  over 
the  middle  of  the  chamber  you  are  in,  and  if  you  walk 
around  the  edge  the  pieces  may  not  fall  on  you." 

"If  you  don't  listen  to  me,  Agnes,"  I  said,   "I'll 


126  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

go  and  sit  anywhere,  everywhere,  where  death  may 
come  to  me  quickest.  Your  coldness  is  worse  than 
the  coldness  of  the  cave.  I  cannot  bear  it. " 

"But,  Mr.  Cuthbert,"  said  Agnes,  speaking,  I 
thought,  with  some  agitation,  "  I  have  been  listening 
to  you,  and  what  more  can  you  possibly  have  to  say  ? 
If  there  is  anything  you  want,  let  me  know.  I  will 
run  and  get  it  for  you." 

"  There  is  no  need  that  you  should  go  away  to  get 
what  I  want, "  I  said.  "  It  is  there  with  you.  It  is 
you." 

"  Mr.  Cuthbert, "  said  Agnes,  in  a  very  low  voice, 
but  so  distinctly  that  I  could  hear  every  word,  "  don't 
you  think  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  give  your 
whole  mind  to  keeping  yourself  warm  and  strong? 
For  if  you  let  yourself  get  benumbed  you  may  sink 
down  and  freeze." 

"  Agnes, "  I  said,  "  I  will  not  move  from  this  little 
hole  until  I  have  told  you  that  I  love  you,  that  I  have 
no  reason  to  care  for  life  or  rescue  unless  you  return 
my  love,  unless  you  are  willing  to  be  mine.  Speak 
quickly  to  me,  Agnes,  because  I  may  not  be  rescued 
and  may  never  know  whether  my  love  for  you  is 
returned  or  not." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  tremendous  crash 
behind  me,  and,  turning,  I  saw  a  mass  of  broken  ice 
upon  the  floor  of  the  cave,  with  a  cloud  of  dust  and 
smaller  fragments  still  falling.  And  then  with  a 
great  scratching  and  scraping,  and  a  howl  loud 
enough  to  waken  the  echoes  of  all  the  lower  regions, 
down  came  a  red-headed,  drunken  shoemaker.  I  can 
not  say  that  he  was  drunk  at  that  moment,  but  I 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  127 

knew  the  man  the  moment  I  saw  his  carroty  poll,  and 
it  was  drink  which  had  sent  him  to  the  poorhouse. 

But  the  sprawling  and  howling  cobbler  did  not 
reach  the  floor.  A  rope  had  been  fastened  around 
his  Avaist  to  prevent  a  fall  in  case  the  bottom  of  the 
pit  should  suddenly  give  way,  and  he  hung  dangling 
in  mid-air  with  white  face  and  distended  eyes,  curs 
ing  and  swearing  and  vociferously  entreating  to  be 
pulled  up.  But  before  he  received  any  answer  from 
above,  or  I  could  speak  to  him,  there  came  through 
the  hole  in  the  roof  of  the  cave  a  shower  of  stones  and 
gravel,  and  with  them  a  frantic  Italian,  his  legs  and 
arms  outspread,  his  face  wild  with  terror. 

Just  as  he  appeared  in  view  he  grasped  the  rope  of 
the  cobbler,  and,  though  in  a  moment  he  came  down 
heavily  upon  the  floor  of  the  chamber,  this  broke  his 
fall,  and  he  did  not  appear  to  be  hurt.  Instantly  he 
crouched  low  and  almost  upon  all  fours,  and  began  to 
run  around  the  chamber,  keeping  close  to  the  walls 
and  screaming,  I  suppose,  to  his  saints  to  preserve 
him  from  the  torments  of  the  frozen  damned. 

In  the  midst  of  this  hubbub  came  the  voice  of 
Agnes  through  the  hole :  "  Oh,  Mr.  Cuthbert,  what  has 
happened?  Are  you  alive?  " 

I  was  so  disappointed  by  the  appearance  of  these 
wretched  interlopers  at  the  moment  it  was  about  to 
be  decided  whether  my  life  —  should  it  last  for  years, 
or  but  for  a  few  minutes  —  was  to  be  black  or  bright, 
and  I  was  so  shaken  and  startled  by  the  manner  of 
their  entry  upon  the  scene,  that  I  could  not  immedi 
ately  shape  the  words  necessary  to  inform  Agnes  what 
had  happened.  But,  collecting  my  faculties,  I  was 


128  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

about  to  speak,  when  suddenly,  with  the  force  of  the 
hind  leg  of  a  mule,  I  was  pushed  away  from  the  aper 
ture,  and  the  demoniac  Italian  clapped  his  great  mouth 
to  the  end  of  the  tube  and  roared  through  it  a  volume 
of  oaths  and  supplications.  I  attempted  to  thrust 
aside  the  wretched  being,  but  I  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  move  the  ice-barrier  itself.  He  had  perceived 
that  some  one  outside  was  talking  to  me,  and  in  his 
frenzy  he  was  imploring  that  some  one  should  let  him 
out. 

While  still  endeavoring  to  move  the  man,  I  was 
seized  by  the  arm,  and  turning,  beheld  the  pallid  face 
of  the  shoemaker.  They  had  let  him  down  so  that 
he  reached  the  floor.  He  tried  to  fall  on  his  knees 
before  me,  but  the  rope  was  so  short  that  he  was  able 
to  go  only  part  of  the  way  down,  and  presented  a  most 
ludicrous  appearance,  with  his  toes  scraping  the  icy 
floor  and  his  arms  thrown  out  as  if  he  were  paddling 
like  a  tadpole.  "Oh,  have  mercy  upon  me,  sir,"  he 
said,  "and  help  me  get  out  of  this  dreadful  place. 
If  you  go  to  the  hole  and  call  up  it's  you,  they  will 
pull  me  up ;  but  if  they  get  you  out  first  they  will 
never  think  of  me.  I  am  a  poor  pauper,  sir,  but  I 
never  did  nothin'  to  be  packed  in  ice  before  I  am 
dead." 

Noticing  that  the  Italian  had  left  the  end  of  the 
aperture  in  the  block  of  ice,  and  that  he  was  now 
shouting  up  the  open  shaft,  I  ran  to  the  channel  of 
communication  which  my  Agnes  had  opened  for  me, 
and  called  through  it;  but  the  dear  girl  had  gone. 

The  end  of  a  ladder  now  appeared  at  the  opening  in 
the  roof;  and  this  was  let  down  until  it  reached  the 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  129 

floor.  I  started  toward  it,  but  before  I  had  gone  half 
the  distance  the  frightened  shoemaker  and  the  maniac 
Italian  sprang  upon  it,  and,  with  shrieks  and  oaths, 
began  a  maddening  fight  for  possession  of  the  ladder. 
They  might  quickly  have  gone  up  one  after  the  other, 
but  each  had  no  thought  but  to  be  first;  and  as  one 
seized  the  rounds  he  was  pulled  away  by  the  other, 
until  I  feared  the  ladder  would  be  torn  to  pieces. 
The  shoemaker  finally  pushed  his  way  up  a  little  dis 
tance,  when  the  Italian  sprang  upon  his  back,  endeav 
oring  to  climb  over  him;  and  so  on  they  went  up  the 
shaft,  fighting,  swearing,  kicking,  scratching,  shak 
ing  and  wrenching  the  ladder,  which  had  been  tied  to 
another  one  in  order  to  increase  its  length,  so  that  it 
was  in  danger  of  breaking,  and  tearing  at  each  other 
in  a  fashion  which  made  it  wonderful  that  they  did 
not  both  tumble  headlong  downward.  They  went  on 
up,  so  completely  filling  the  shaft  with  their  strug 
gling  forms  and  their  wild  cries  that  I  could  not  see 
or  hear  anything,  and  was  afraid,  in  fact,  to  look  up 
toward  the  outer  air. 

As  I  was  afterward  informed,  the  Italian,  who  had 
slipped  into  the  hole  by  accident,  ran  away  like  a 
frightened  hare  the  moment  he  got  his  feet  on  firm 
ground,  and  the  shoemaker  sat  down  and  swooned. 
By  this  performance  he  obtained  from  a  benevolent 
bystander  a  drink  of  whiskey,  the  first  he  had  had 
since  he  was  committed  to  the  poorhouse. 

But  a  voice  soon  came  clown  the  shaft  calling  to  me. 
I  recognized  it  as  that  of  Tom  Burton,  and  replied 
that  I  was  safe,  and  that  I  was  coming  up  the  ladder. 
But  in  my  attempt  to  climb,  I  found  that  I  was  unable 


130  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

to  do  so.  Chilled  and  stiffened  by  the  cold  and 
weakened  by  fatigue  and  excitement,  I  believe  I  never 
should  have  been  able  to  leave  that  ice-chamber  if  iny 
faithful  friend  had  not  come  down  the  ladder  and 
vigorously  assisted  me  to  reach  the  outer  air. 

Seated  on  the  ground,  my  back  against  a  great  oak- 
tree,  I  was  quickly  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  my 
neighbors,  the  workmen,  and  the  people  who  had  been 
drawn  to  the  spot  by  the  news  of  the  strange-  accident 
to  gaze  at  me  as  if  I  were  some  unknown  being 
excavated  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  I  was  sip 
ping  some  brandy-and-water  which  Burton  had  handed 
me,  when  Aaron  Boyce  pushed  himself  in  front  of  me. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  am  mighty  glad  you  got  out 
of  that  scrape.  I'm  bound  to  say  I  didn't  expect  you 
would.  I  have  been  sure  all  along  that  it  wasn't  right 
to  meddle  with  things  that  go  agin  Nature,  and  I 
haven't  any  doubt  that  you'll  see  that  for  yourself  and 
fill  up  all  them  tunnels  and  shafts  you've  made.  The 
ice  that  comes  on  ponds  and  rivers  was  good  enough 
for  our  forefathers,  and  it  ought  to  be  good  enough  for 
us.  And  as  for  this  cold  stuff  you  find  in  your  gravel- 
pit,  I  don't  believe  it's  ice  at  all;  and  if  it  is,  like  as 
not  it's  made  of  some  sort  of  pizen  stuff  that  freezes 
easier  than  water.  For  everybody  knows  that  water 
don't  freeze  in  a  well,  and  if  it  don't  do  that,  why 
should  it  do  it  in  any  kind  of  a  hole  in  the  ground? 
So  perhaps  it's  just  as  well  that  you  did  git  shut  up 
there,  sir,  and  find  out  for  yourself  what  a  dangerous 
thing  it  is  to  fool  with  Nature  and  try  to  git  ice  from 
the  bottom  of  the  ground  instead  of  the  top  of  the 
water." 


MY   TERMINAL  MORAINE  131 

This  speech  made  me  angry,  for  I  knew  that  old 
Boyce  was  a  man  who  was  always  glad  to  get  hold  of 
anything  which  had  gone  wrong  and  to  try  to  make  it 
worse;  but  I  was  too  weak  to  answer  him. 

This,  however,  would  not  have  been  necessary,  for 
Tom  Burton  turned  upon  him.  "Idiot,"  said  he,  "if 
that  is  your  way  of  thinking  you  might  as  well  say 
that  if  a  well  caves  in  you  should  never  again  dig  for 
water,  or  that  nobody  should  have  a  cellar  under  his 
house  for  fear  that  the  house  should  fall  into  it. 
There's  no  more  danger  of  the  ice  beneath  us  ever 
giving  way  again  than  there  is  that  this  bluff  should 
crumble  under  our  feet.  That  break  in  the  roof  of 
the  ice-tunnel  was  caused  by  my  digging  away  the 
face  of  the  bluff  very  near  that  spot.  The  high  tem 
perature  of  the  outer  air  weakened  the  ice,  and  it  fell. 
But  down  here,  under  this  ground  and  secure  from  the 
influences  of  the  heat  of  the  outer  air,  the  mass  of  ice 
is  more  solid  than  rock.  We  will  build  a  brick  arch 
over  the  place  where  the  accident  happened,  and  then 
there  will  not  be  a  safer  mine  on  this  continent  than 
this  ice-mine  will  be." 

This  was  a  wise  and  diplomatic  speech  from  Burton, 
and  it  proved  to  be  of  great  service  to  me ;  for  the  men 
who  had  been  taking  out  ice  had  been  a  good  deal 
frightened  by  the  fall  of  the  tunnel,  and  when  it  was 
proved  that  what  Burton  had  said  in  regard  to  the 
cause  of  the  weakening  of  the  ice  was  entirely  correct, 
they  became  willing  to  go  to  work  again. 

I  now  began  to  feel  stronger  and  better,  and,  rising 
to  my  feet,  I  glanced  here  and  there  into  the  crowd, 
hoping  to  catch  a  sight  of  Agnes.  But  I  was  not  very 


132  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

much  surprised  at  not  seeing  her,  because  she  would 
naturally  shrink  from  forcing  herself  into  the  midst 
of  this  motley  company ;  but  I  felt  that  I  must  go  and 
look  for  her  without  the  loss  of  a  minute,  for  if  she 
should  return  to  her  father's  house  I  might  not  be  able 
to  see  her  again. 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  I  met  Susan,  who  was 
almost  overpowered  with  joy  at  seeing  me  safe  again. 
I  shook  her  by  the  hand,  but,  without  replying  to  her 
warm-hearted  protestations  of  thankfulness  and  de 
light,  I  asked  her  if  she  had  seen  Miss  Havelot. 

"Miss  Agnes!"  she  exclaimed.  "Why,  no,  sir;  I 
expect  she's  at  home;  and  if  she  did  come  here  with 
the  rest  of  the  neighbors  I  didn't  see  her;  for  when  I 
found  out  what  had  happened,  sir,  I  was  so  weak  that 
I  sat  down  in  the  kitchen  all  of  a  lump,  and  have  just 
had  strength  enough  to  come  out." 

"  Oh,  I  know  she  was  here, "  I  cried ;  "  I  am  sure  of 
that,  and  I  do  hope  she's  not  gone  home  again." 

"  Know  she  was  here !  "  exclaimed  Susan.  "  Why, 
how  on  earth  could  you  know  that?" 

I  did  not  reply  that  it  was  not  on  the  earth  but 
under  it  that  I  became  aware  of  the  fact,  but  hurried 
toward  the  Havelot  house,  hoping  to  overtake  Agnes 
if  she  had  gone  that  way.  But  I  did  not  see  her,  and 
suddenly  a  startling  idea  struck  me,  and  I  turned  and 
ran  home  as  fast  as  I  could  go.  When  I  reached  my 
grounds  I  went  directly  to  the  mouth  of  the  shaft. 
There  was  nobody  there,  for  the  crowd  was  collected 
into  a  solid  mass  on  the  top  of  the  bluff,  listening  to 
a  lecture  from  Tom  Burton,  who  deemed  it  well  to 
promote  the  growth  of  interest  and  healthy  opinion  in 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  133 

regard  to  his  wonderful  discovery  and  my  valuable 
possession.  I  hurried  down  the  shaft,  and  near  the 
end  of  it,  just  before  it  joined  the  ice-tunnel,  I  beheld 
Agnes  sitting  upon  the  wooden  track.  She  was  not 
unconscious,  for  as  I  approached  she  slightly  turned 
her  head.  I  sprang  toward  her ;  I  kneeled  beside  her ; 
I  took  her  in  my  arms.  "  Oh,  Agnes,  dearest  Agnes," 
I  cried,  "what  is  the  matter?  What  has  happened  to 
you?  Has  a  piece  of  ice  fallen  upon  you?  Have  you 
slipped  and  hurt  yourself?  " 

She  turned  her  beautiful  eyes  up  toward  me  and  for 
a  moment  did  not  speak.  Then  she  said :  "  And  they 
got  you  out?  And  you  are  in  your  right  mind?  " 

"  Right  mind !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  have  never  been 
out  of  my  mind.  What  are  you  thinking  of?  " 

"Oh,  you  must  have  been,"  she  said;  "when  you 
screamed  at  me  in  that  horrible  way.  I  was  so  fright 
ened  that  I  fell  back,  and  I  must  have  fainted. " 

Tremulous  as  I  was  with  love  and  anxiety,  I  could 
not  help  laughing.  "  Oh,  my  dear  Agnes,  I  did  not 
scream  at  you.  That  was  a  crazed  Italian  who  fell 
through  the  hole  that  they  dug."  Then  I  told  her 
what  had  happened. 

She  heaved  a  gentle  sigh.  "I  am  so  glad  to  hear 
that,"  she  said.  "There  was  one  thing  that  I  was 
thinking  about  just  before  you  came  and  which  gave 
me  a  little  bit  of  comfort :  the  words  and  yells  I  heard 
were  dreadfully  oniony,  and  somehow  or  other  I  could 
not  connect  that  sort  of  thing  with  you." 

It  now  struck  me  that  during  this  conversation  I 
had  been  holding  my  dear  girl  in  my  arms,  and  she 
had  not  shown  the  slightest  sign  of  resistance  or  dis- 


134  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

approbation.  This  made  my  heart  beat  high.  "  Oh, 
Agnes, "  I  said,  "  I  truly  believe  you  love  me  or  you 
would  not  have  been  here,  you  would  not  have  done 
for  me  all  that  you  did.  Why  did  you  not  answer  me 
when  I  spoke  to  you  through  that  wall  of  ice,  through 
the  hole  your  dear  love  had  made  in  it?  Why,  when 
I  was  in  such  a  terrible  situation,  not  knowing  whether 
I  was  to  die  or  live,  did  you  not  comfort  my  heart  with 
one  sweet  word?  " 

"Oh,  Walter/'  she  answered,  "it  wasn't  at  all  nec 
essary  for  you  to  say  all  that  you  did  say,  for  I  had 
suspected  it  before,  and  as  soon  as  you  began  to  call 
me  Agnes  I  knew,  of  course,  how  you  felt  about  it. 
And,  besides,  it  really  was  necessary  that  you  should 
move  about  to  keep  yourself  from  freezing.  But  the 
great  reason  for  my  not  encouraging  you  to  go  on  talk 
ing  in  that  way  was  that  I  was  afraid  people  might 
come  into  the  tunnel,  and  as,  of  course,  you  would  not 
know  that  they  were  there,  you  would  go  on  making 
love  to  me  through  my  diploma-case,  and  you  know  I 
should  have  perished  with  shame  if  I  had  had  to  stand 
there  with  that  old  Mr.  Boyce,  and  I  don't  know  who 
else,  listening  to  your  words,  which  were  very  sweet 
to  me,  Walter,  but  which  would  have  sounded  awfully 
funny  to  them." 

When  she  said  that  my  words  had  been  sweet  to  her 
I  dropped  the  consideration  of  all  other  subjects. 

When,  about  ten  minutes  afterward,  we  came  out  of 
the  shaft  we  were  met  by  Susan. 

"  Bless  my  soul  and  body,  Mr.  Cuthbert ! "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  Did  you  find  that  young  lady  down  there 
in  the  centre  of  the  earth?  It  seems  to  me  as  if 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  135 

everything  that  you  want  comes  to  you  out  of  the 
ground.  But  I  have  been  looking  for  you  to  tell  you 
that  Mr.  Havelot  has  been  here  after  his  daughter, 
and  I'm  sure  if  he  had  known  where  she  was,  he  would 
have  been  scared  out  of  his  wits." 

"  Father  here !  "  exclaimed  Agnes.  "  Where  is  he 
now?" 

"  I  think  he  has  gone  home,  miss.  Indeed  I'm  sure 
of  it ;  for  my  daughter  Jennie,  who  was  over  here  the 
same  as  all  the  other  people  in  the  county,  I  truly 
believe  told  him  —  and  I  was  proud  she  had  the  spirit 
to  speak  up  that  way  to  him  —  that  your  heart  was 
almost  broke  when  you  heard  about  Mr.  Cuthbert 
being  shut  up  in  the  ice,  and  that  most  likely  you  was 
in  your  own  room  a-cryin'  your  eyes  out.  When  he 
heard  that  he  stood  lookin'  all  around  the  place,  and 
then  he  asked  me  if  he  might  go  in  the  house;  and 
when  I  told  him  he  was  most  welcome,  he  went  in.  I 
offered  to  show  him  about,  which  he  said  was  no  use, 
that  he  had  been  there  often  enough;  and  he  went 
everywhere,  I  truly  believe,  except  in  the  garret  and 
the  cellar.  And  after  he  got  through  with  that  he 
went  out  to  the  barn  and  then  walked  home." 

"I  must  go  to  him  immediately,"  said  Agnes. 

"But  not  alone,"  said  I.  And  together  we  walked 
through  the  woods,  over  the  little  field  and  across  the 
Havelot  lawn  to  the  house.  We  were  told  that  the 
old  gentleman  was  in  his  library,  and  together  we 
entered  the  room. 

Mr.  Havelot  was  sitting  by  a  table  on  which  were 
lying  several  open  volumes  of  an  encyclopedia. 
When  he  turned  and  saw  us;  he  closed  his  book, 


136  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

pushed  back  his  chair,  and  took  off  his  spectacles. 
"Upon  my  word,  sir,"  he  cried;  "and  so  the  first 
thing  you  do  after  they  pull  you  out  of  the  earth  is  to 
come  here  and  break  my  commands." 

"I  came  on  the  invitation  of  your  daughter,  sir." 

"  And  what  right  has  she  to  invite  you,  I'd  like  to 
know?" 

"  She  has  every  right,  for  to  her  I  owe  my  existence." 

"What  rabid  nonsense! "  exclaimed  the  old  gentle 
man.  "  People  don't  owe  their  existence  to  the  silly 
creatures  they  fall  in  love  with." 

"I  assure  I  am  correct,  sir."  And  then  I  related 
to  him  what  his  daughter  had  done,  and  how  through 
her  angelic  agency  my  rescuers  had  found  me  a  living 
being  instead  of  a  frozen  corpse. 

"Stuff!  "  said  Mr.  Havelot.  "People  can  live  in  a 
temperature  of  thirty -two  degrees  above  zero  all  win 
ter.  Out  in  Minnesota  they  think  that's  hot.  And 
you  gave  him  victuals  and  drink  through  your  diploma- 
case!  Well,  miss,  I  told  you  that  if  you  tried  to 
roast  chestnuts  in  that  diploma-case  the  bottom  would 
come  out." 

"But  you  see,  father,"  said  Agnes,  earnestly,  "the 
reason  I  did  that  was  because  when  I  roasted  them  in 
anything  shallow  they  popped  into  the  fire,  but  they 
could  not  jump  out  of  the  diploma-case." 

"  Well,  something  else  seems  to  have  jumped  out  of 
it,"  said  the  old  gentleman;  "and  something  with 
which  I  am  not  satisfied.  I  have  been  looking  over 
these  books,  sir,  and  have  read  the  articles  on  ice, 
glaciers,  and  caves,  and  I  find  no  record  of  anything 
in  the  whole  history  of  the  world  which  in  the  least 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  137 

resembles  the  cock-and-bull  story  I  am  told  about  tlie 
butt-end  of  a  glacier  which  tumbled  into  a  cave  in 
your  ground,  and  has  been  lying  there  through  all  the 
geological  ages,  and  the  eras  of  formation,  and  peri 
ods  of  animate  existence  down  to  the  days  of  Noah, 
and  Moses,  and  Methuselah,  and  Barneses  II.,  and 
Alexander  the  Great,  and  Martin  Luther,  and  John 
Wesley  to  this  day,  for  you  to  dig  out  and  sell  to  the 
Williamstown  Ice  Company." 

"But  that's  what  happened,  sir,"  said  I. 

"And  besides,  father,"  added  Agnes,  "the  gold  and 
silver  that  people  take  out  of  mines  may  have  been 
in  the  ground  as  long  as  that  ice  has  been." 

"  Bosh !  "  said  Mr.  Havelot.  "  The  cases  are  not  at 
all  similar.  It  is  simply  impossible  that  a  piece  of  a 
glacier  should  have  fallen  into  a  cave  and  been  pre 
served  in  that  way.  The  temperature  of  caves  is 
always  above  the  freezing-point,  and  that  ice  would 
have  melted  a  million  years  before  you  were  born." 

"But,  father,"  said  Agnes,  "the  temperature  of 
caves  filled  with  ice  must  be  very  much  lower  than 
that  of  common  caves." 

"And  apart  from  that,"  I  added,  "the  ice  is  still 
there,  sir." 

"That  doesn't  make  the  slightest  difference,"  he 
replied.  "It's  against  all  reason  and  common-sense 
that  such  a  thing  could  have  happened.  Even  if 
there  ever  was  a  glacier  in  this  part  of  the  country, 
and  if  the  lower  portion  of  it  did  stick  out  over 
an  immense  hole  in  the  ground,  that  protruding  end 
would  never  have  broken  off  and  tumbled  in.  Gla 
ciers  are  too  thick  and  massive  for  that." 


138  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

"But  the  glacier  is  there,  sir,"  said  I,  ''in  spite  of 
your  own  reasoning. J? 

"And  then  again,"  continued  the  old  gentleman, 
"  if  there  had  been  a  cave  and  a  projecting  spur  the 
ice  would  have  gradually  melted  and  dripped  into 
the  cave,  and  we  would  have  had  a  lake  and  not  an 
ice-mine.  It  is  a  perfect  absurdity." 

"But  it's  there,  notwithstanding,"  said  I. 

"  And  you  cannot  subvert  facts,  you  know,  father, " 
added  Agnes. 

"  Confound  facts ! "  he  cried.  "  I  base  my  argu 
ments  on  sober,  cool-headed  reason;  and  there's  noth 
ing  that  can  withstand  reason.  The  thing's  impossible 
and,  therefore,  it  has  never  happened.  I  went  over 
to  your  place,  sir,  when  I  heard  of  the  accident,  for 
the  misfortunes  of  my  neighbors  interest  me,  no  mat 
ter  what  may  be  my  opinion  of  them,  and  when  I 
found  that  you  had  been  extricated  from  your  ridic 
ulous  predicament,  I  went  through  your  house,  and  I 
Avas  pleased  to  find  it  in  as  good  or  better  condition 
than  I  had  known  it  in  the  days  of  your  respected 
father.  I  was  glad  to  see  the  improvement  in  your 
circumstances;  but  when  I  am  told,  sir,  that  your 
apparent  prosperity  rests  upon  such  an  absurdity  as  a 
glacier  in  a  gravel-hill,  I  can  but  smile  with  con 
tempt,  sir." 

I  was  getting  a  little  tired  of  this.  "  But  the  gla 
cier  is  there,  sir,"  I  said,  "and  I  am  taking  out  ice 
every  day,  and  have  reason  to  believe  that  I  can  con 
tinue  to  take  it  out  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  With 
such  facts  as  these  before  me,  I  am  bound  to  say,  sir, 
that  I  don't  care  in  the  least  about  reason," 


MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE  139 

'•And  I  am  here,  father/7  said  Agnes,  coming  close 
to  me,  "  and  here  I  want  to  continue  for  the  rest  of 
my  days." 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  her.  "And,  I  sup 
pose,"  he  said,  "that  you,  too,  don't  in  the  least  care 
about  reason?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Agnes. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Havelot,  rising,  "I  have  done  all 
I  can  to  make  you  two  listen  to  reason,  and  I  can  do 
no  more.  I  despair  of  making  sensible  human  beings 
of  you,  and  so  you  might  as  well  go  on  acting  like  a 
couple  of  ninny-hammers." 

"  Do  ninny-hammers  marry  and  settle  on  the  prop 
erty  adjoining  yours,  sir?"  I  asked. 

"Yes;  I  suppose  they  do,"  he  said.  "And  when 
the  aboriginal  icehouse,  or  whatever  the  ridiculous 
thing  is  that  they  have  discovered,  gives  out,  I  sup 
pose  that  they  can  come  to  a  reasonable  man  and  ask 
him  for  a  little  money  to  buy  bread  and  butter." 

Two  years  have  passed,  and  Agnes  and  the  glacier 
are  still  mine;  great  blocks  of  ice  now  flow  in  almost 
a  continuous  stream  from  the  mine  to  the  railroad- 
station,  and  in  a  smaller  but  quite  as  continuous 
stream  an  income  flows  in  upon  Agnes  and  me;  and 
from  one  of  the  experimental  excavations  made  by 
Tom  Burton  on  the  bluff,  comes  a  stream  of  ice-cold 
water  running  in  a  sparkling  brook  a-down  my  dell. 
On  fine  mornings  before  I  am  up,  I  am  credibly  in 
formed  that  Aaron  Boyce  may  generally  be  found,  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  endeavoring  to  catch  the 
trout  with  which  I  am  trying  to  stock  that  ice-cold 
stream.  The  diploma-case,  which  I  caused  to  be 


140  MY  TERMINAL  MORAINE 

carefully  removed  from  the  ice -barrier  which  had 
imprisoned  me,  now  hangs  in  my  study  and  holds  our 
marriage  certificate. 

Near  the  line-fence  which  separates  his  property 
from  mine,  Mr.  Havelot  has  sunk  a  wide  shaft.  "  If 
the  glacier  spur  under  your  land  was  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  wide,"  he  says  to  me,  "it  was  probably  at  least 
a  half  a  mile  long;  and  if  that  were  the  case,  the 
upper  end  of  it  extends  into  my  place,  and  I  may  be 
able  to  strike  it."  He  has  a  good  deal  of  money,  this 
worthy  Mr.  Havelot,  but  he  would  be  very  glad  to 
increase  his  riches,  whether  they  are  based  upon 
sound  reason  or  ridiculous  facts.  As  for  Agnes  and 
myself,  no  facts  or  any  reason  could  make  us  happier 
than  our  ardent  love  and  our  frigid  fortune. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  KELATIVE 
EXISTENCES 


IN  a  certain  summer,  not  long  gone,  my  friend 
Bentley  and  I  found  ourselves  in  a  little  hamlet 
which,  overlooked  a  placid  valley,  through  which  a 
river  gently  moved,  winding  its  way  through  green 
stretches  until  it  turned  the  end  of  a  line  of  low  hills 
and  was  lost  to  view.  Beyond  this  river,  far  away, 
but  visible  from  the  door  of  the  cottage  where  we 
dwelt,  there  lay  a  city.  Through  the  mists  which 
floated  over  the  valley  we  could  see  the  outlines  of 
steeples  and  tall  roofs ;  and  buildings  of  a  character 
which  indicated  thrift  and  business  stretched  them 
selves  down  to  the  opposite  edge  of  the  river.  The 
more  distant  parts  of  the  city,  evidently  a  small  one, 
lost  themselves  in  the  hazy  summer  atmosphere. 

Bentley  was  young,  fair-haired,  and  a  poet;  I  was 
a  philosopher,  or  trying  to  be  one.  We  were  good 
friends,  and  had  come  down  into  this  peaceful  region 
to  work  together.  Although  we  had  fled  from  the 
bustle  and  distractions  of  the  town,  the  appearance  in 
this  rural  region  of  a  city,  which,  so  far  as  we  could 
observe,  exerted  no  influence  on  the  quiet  character  of 
the  valley  in  which  it  lay,  aroused  our  interest.  No 

141 


142      PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES 

craft  plied  up  and  down  the  river;  there  were  no 
bridges  from  shore  to  shore;  there  were  none  of  those 
scattered  and  half -squalid  habitations  which  generally 
are  found  on  the  outskirts  of  a  city ;  there  came  to  us 
no  distant  sound  of  bells ;  and  not  the  smallest  wreath 
of  smoke  rose  from  any  of  the  buildings. 

In  answer  to  our  inquiries  our  landlord  told  us  that 
the  city  over  the  river  had  been  built  by  one  man,  who 
was  a  visionary,  and  who  had  a  great  deal  more  money 
than  common  sense.  "  It  is  not  as  big  a  town  as  you 
would  think,  sirs,"  he  said,  "because  the  general 
mistiness  of  things  in  this  valley  makes  them  look 
larger  than  they  are.  Those  hills,  for  instance,  when 
you  get  to  them  are  not  as  high  as  they  look  to  be 
from  here.  But  the  town  is  big  enough,  and  a  good 
deal  too  big ;  for  it  ruined  its  builder  and  owner,  who 
when  he  came  to  die  had  not  money  enough  left  to  put 
up  a  decent  tombstone  at  the  head  of  his  grave.  He 
had  a  queer  idea  that  he  would  like  to  have  his  town 
all  finished  before  anybody  lived  in  it,  and  so  he  kept 
on  working  and  spending  money  year  after  year  and 
year  after  year  until  the  city  was  done  and  he  had  not 
a  cent  left.  During  all  the  time  that  the  place  was 
building  hundreds  of  people  came  to  him  to  buy  houses 
or  to  hire  them,  but  he  would  not  listen  to  anything 
of  the  kind.  No  one  must  live  in  his  town  until  it 
was  all  done.  Even  his  workmen  were  obliged  to  go 
away  at  night  to  lodge.  It  is  a  town,  sirs,  I  am'  told, 
in  which  nobody  has  slept  for  even  a  night.  There 
are  streets  there,  and  places  of  business,  and  churches, 
and  public  halls,  and  everything  that  a  town  full  of 
inhabitants  could  need;  but  it  is  all  empty  and  de- 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES      143 

serted,  and  has  been  so  as  far  back  as  I  can  remember, 
and  I  came  to  this  region  when  I  was  a  little  boy." 

"  And  is  there  no  one  to  guard  the  place?  "  we  asked; 
"no  one  to  protect  it  from  wandering  vagrants  who 
might  choose  to  take  possession  of  the  buildings?" 

"  There  are  not  many  vagrants  in  this  part  of  the 
country,"  he  said;  "and  if  there  were,  they  would  not 
go  over  to  that  city.  It  is  haunted." 

"By  what?"  we  asked. 

"Well,  sirs,  I  scarcely  can  tell  you;  queer  beings 
that  are  not  flesh  and  blood,  and  that  is  all  I  know 
about  it.  A  good  many  people  living  hereabouts  have 
visited  that  place  once  in  their  lives,  but  I  know  of 
no  one  who  has  gone  there  a  second  time." 

"  And  travellers, "  I  said ;  "  are  they  not  excited  by 
curiosity  to  explore  that  strange  uninhabited  city?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  our  host  replied;  "almost  all  visitors  to 
the  valley  go  over  to  that  queer  city  —  generally  in 
small  parties,  for  it  is  not  a  place  in  which  one  wishes 
to  walk  about  alone.  Sometimes  they  see  things,  and 
sometimes  they  don't.  But  I  never  knew  any  man  or 
woman  to  show  a  fancy  for  living  there,  although  it  is 
a  very  good  town." 

This  was  said  at  supper-time,  and,  as  it  was  the 
period  of  full  moon,  Bentley  and  I  decided  that  we 
would  visit  the  haunted  city  that  evening.  Our  host 
endeavored  to  dissuade  us,  saying  that  no  one  ever 
went  over  there  at  night;  but  as  we  were  not  to  be 
deterred,  he  told  us  where  we  would  find  his  small 
boat  tied  to  a  stake  on  the  river-bank.  We  soon 
crossed  the  river,  and  landed  at  a  broad,  but  low, 
stone  pier,  at  the  land  end  of  which  a  line  of  tall 


144      PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES 

grasses  waved  in  the  gentle  night  wind  as  if  they  were 
sentinels  warning  us  from  entering  the  silent  city. 
We  pushed  through  these,  and  walked  up  a  street 
fairly  wide,  and  so  well  paved  that  we  noticed  none 
of  the- weeds  and  other  growths  which  generally  de 
note  desertion  or  little  use.  By  the  bright  light  of 
the  moon  we  could  see  that  the  architecture  was  simple, 
and  of  a  character  highly  gratifying  to  the  eye.  All 
the  buildings  were  of  stone  and  of  good  size.  We  were 
greatly  excited  and  interested,  and  proposed  to  con 
tinue  our  walks  until  the  moon  should  set,  and  to 
return  on  the  following  morning  —  "  to  live  here,  per 
haps,"  said  Bentley.  "What  could  be  so  romantic 
and  yet  so  real?  What  could  conduce  better  to  the 
marriage  of  verse  and  philosophy?"  But  as  he  said 
this  we  saw  around  the  corner  of  a  cross-street  some 
forms  as  of  people  hurrying  away. 

"The  spectres,"  said  my  companion,  laying  his 
hand  on  my  arm. 

"Vagrants,  more  likely,"  I  answered,  "who  have 
taken  advantage  of  the  superstition  of  the  region  to 
appropriate  this  comfort  and  beauty  to  themselves." 

"  If  that  be  so,"  said  Bentley,  "  we  must  have  a  care 
for  our  lives." 

We  proceeded  cautiously,  and  soon  saw  other  forms 
fleeing  before  us  and  disappearing,  as  we  supposed, 
around  corners  and  into  houses.  And  now  suddenly 
finding  ourselves  upon  the  edge  of  a  wide,  open  public 
square,  we  saw  in  the  dim  light  —  for  a  tall  steeple 
obscured  the  moon  —  the  forms  of  vehicles,  horses, 
and  men  moving  here  and  there.  But  before,  in  our 
astonishment,  we  could  say  a  word  one  to  the  other, 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES      145 

the  moon  moved  past  the  steeple,  and  in  its  bright 
light  we  could  see  none  of  the  signs  of  life  and  traffic 
which  had  just  astonished  us. 

Timidly,  with  hearts  beating  fast,  but  with  not  one 
thought  of  turning  back,  nor  any  fear  of  vagrants, — 
for  we  were  now  sure  that  what  we  had  seen  was  not 
flesh  and  blood,  and  therefore  harmless,  —  we  crossed 
the  open  space  and  entered  a  street  down  which  the 
moon  shone  clearly.  Here  and  there  we  saw  dim 
figures,  which  quickly  disappeared;  but,  approaching 
a  low  stone  balcony  in  front  of  one  of  the  houses,  we 
were  surprised  to  see,  sitting  thereon  and  leaning  over 
a  book  which  lay  open  upon  the  top  of  the  carved 
parapet,  the  figure  of  a  woman  who  did  not  appear  to 
notice  us. 

"That  is  a  real  person,"  whispered  Bentley,  "and 
she  does  not  see  us." 

"No,"  I  replied;  "it  is  like  the  others.  Let  us  go 
near  it." 

We  drew  near  to  the  balcony  and  stood  before  it. 
At  this  the  figure  raised  its  head  and  looked  at  us.  It 
was  beautiful,  it  was  young;  but  its  substance  seemed 
to  be  of  an  ethereal  quality  which  we  had  never  seen 
or  known  of.  With  its  full,  soft  eyes  fixed  upon  us, 
it  spoke :  — 

"Why  are  you  here?"  it  asked.  "  I  have  said  to 
myself  that  the  next  time  I  saw  any  of  you  I  would 
ask  you  why  you  come  to  trouble  us.  Cannot  you  live 
content  in  your  own  realms  and  spheres,  knowing,  as 
you  must  know,  how  timid  we  are,  and  how  you 
frighten  us  and  make  us  unhappy?  In  all  this  city 
there  is,  I  believe,  not  one  of  us  except  myself  who 


146      PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES 

does  not  flee  and  hide  from  you  whenever  you  cruelly 
come  here.  Even  I  would  do  that,  had  not  I  declared 
to  myself  that  I  would  see  you  and  speak  to  you,  and 
endeavor  to  prevail  upon  you  to  leave  us  in  peace." 

The  clear,  frank  tones  of  the  speaker  gave  me  cour 
age.  " We  are  two  men, "  I  answered,  "strangers  in 
this  region,  and  living  for  the  time  in  the  beautiful 
country  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  Having  heard 
of  this  quiet  city,  we  have  come  to  see  it  for  ourselves. 
We  had  supposed  it  to  be  uninhabited,  but  now  that 
we  find  that  this  is  not  the  case,  we  would  assure  you 
from  our  hearts  that  we  do  not  wish  to  disturb  or 
annoy  any  one  who  lives  here.  We  simply  came  as 
honest  travellers  to  view  the  city." 

The  figure  now  seated  herself  again,  and  as  her 
countenance  was  nearer  to  us,  we  could  see  that  it  was 
filled  with  pensive  thought.  For  a  moment  she  looked 
at  us  without  speaking.  "Men!  "  she  said.  "And  so 
I  have  been  right.  For  a  long  time  I  have  believed 
that  the  beings  who  sometimes  come  here,  filling  us 
with  dread  and  awe,  are  men." 

"  And  you, "  I  exclaimed  —  "  who  are  you,  and  who 
are  these  forms  that  we  have  seen,  these  strange 
inhabitants  of  this  city?" 

She  gently  smiled  as  she  answered:  "We  are  the 
ghosts  of  the  future.  We  are  the  people  who  are  to 
live  in  this  city  generations  hence.  But  all  of  us  do 
not  know  that,  principally  because  we  do  not  think 
about  it  and  study  about  it  enough  to  know  it.  And 
it  is  generally  believed  that  the  men  and  women 
who  sometimes  come  hjere  are  ghosts  who  haunt  the 
place." 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES      147 

"And  that  is  why  you  are  terrified  and  flee  from 
us?"  I  exclaimed.  "You  think  we  are  ghosts  from 
another  world  ?  " 

"  Yes, "  she  replied ;  "  that  is  what  is  thought,  and 
what  I  used  to  think." 

"  And  you, "  I  asked,  "  are  spirits  of  human  beings 
yet  to  be?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "but  not  for  a  long  time. 
Generations  of  men,  I  know  not  how  many,  must  pass 
away  before  we  are  men  and  women." 

"  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  Bentley,  clasping  his  hands 
and  raising  his  eyes  to  the  sky,  "  I  shall  be  a  spirit 
before  you  are  a  woman." 

"  Perhaps, "  she  said  again,  with  a  sweet  smile  upon 
her  face,  "you  may  live  to  be  very,  very  old." 

But  Bentley  shook  his  head.  This  did  not  console 
him.  For  some  minutes  I  stood  in  contemplation, 
gazing  upon  the  stone  pavement  beneath  my  feet. 
"And  this,"  I  ejaculated,  "is  a  city  inhabited  by  the 
ghosts  of  the  future,  who  believe  men  and  women  to  be 
phantoms  and  spectres?" 

She  bowed  her  head. 

"  But  how  is  it, "  I  asked,  "  that  you  discovered  that 
you  are  spirits  and  we  mortal  men?" 

"There  are  so  few  of  us  who  think  of  such  things," 
she  answered,  "  so  few  who  study,  ponder,  and  reflect. 
I  am  fond  of  study,  and  I  love  philosophy ;  and  from 
the  reading  of  many  books  I  have  learned  much. 
From  the  book  which  I  have  here  I  have  learned 
most;  and  from  its  teachings  I  have  gradually  come 
to  the  belief,  which  you  tell  me  is  the  true  one,  that 
we  are  spirits  and  you  men." 


148      PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES 

"And  what  book  is  that?"  I  asked. 

"It  is  'The  Philosophy  of  Eelative  Existences/  by 
Rupert  Vance." 

"  Ye  gods ! "  I  exclaimed,  springing  upon  the  bal 
cony,  "that  is  my  book,  and  I  am  Rupert  Vance."  I 
stepped  toward  the  volume  to  seize  it,  but  she  raised 
her  hand. 

"You  cannot  touch  it,"  she  said.  "It  is  the  ghost 
of  a  book.  And  did  you  write  it?" 

"Write  it?  No,"  I  said;  "I  am  writing  it.  It  is 
not  yet  finished." 

"But  here  it  is,"  she  said,  turning  over  the  last 
pages.  "As  a  spirit  book  it  is  finished.  It  is  very 
successful;  it  is  held  in  high  estimation  by  intelligent 
thinkers;  it  is  a  standard  work." 

I  stood  trembling  with  emotion.  "High  estima 
tion!  "  I  said.  "A  standard  work!  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied  with  animation;  "and  it 
well  deserves  its  great  success,  especially  in  its  con 
clusion.  I  have  read  it  twice." 

"But  let  me  see  these  concluding  pages,"  I  ex 
claimed.  "  Let  me  look  upon  what  I  am  to  write." 

She  smiled,  and  shook  her  head,  and  closed  the 
book.  "I  would  like  to  do  that,"  she  said,  "but  if 
you  are  really  a  man  you  must  not  know  what  you  are 
going  to  do." 

"Oh,  tell  me,  tell  me,"  cried  Bentley  from  below, 
"do  you  know  a  book  called  'Stellar  Studies/  by 
Arthur  Bentley?  It  is  a  book  of  poems." 

The  figure  gazed  at  him.  "No,"  it  said  presently; 
"I  never  heard  of  it." 

I  stood  trembling.     Had  the  youthful  figure  before 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES      149 

me  been  flesh  and  blood,  had  the  book  been  a  real 
one,  I  would  have  torn  it  from  her. 

"0  wise  and  lovely  being!  "  I  exclaimed,  falling  on 
iny  knees  before  her,  "be  also  benign  and  generous. 
Let  me  but  see  the  last  page  of  my  book.  If  I  have 
been  of  benefit  to  your  world ;  more  than  all,  if  I  have 
been  of  benefit  to  you,  let  me  see,  I  implore  you  —  let 
me  see  how  it  is  that  I  have  done  it." 

She  rose  with  the  book  in  her  hand.  "You  have 
only  to  wait  until  you  have  done  it,"  she  said,  "and 
then  you  will  know  all  that  you  could  see  here."  I 
started  to  my  feet,  and  stood  alone  upon  the  bal 
cony. 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Bentley,  as  we  walked  toward 
the  pier  where  we  had  left  our  boat,  "  that  we  talked 
only  to  that  ghost  girl,  and  that  the  other  spirits  were 
all  afraid  of  us.  Persons  whose  souls  are  choked  up 
with  philosophy  are  not  apt  to  care  much  for  poetry ; 
and  even  if  my  book  is  to  be  widely  known,  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  she  may  not  have  heard  of  it." 

I  walked  triumphant.  The  moon,  almost  touching 
the  horizon,  beamed  like  red  gold.  "  My  dear  friend, " 
said  I,  "  I  have  always  told  you  that  you  should  put 
more  philosophy  into  your  poetry.  That  would  make 
it  live." 

"And  I  have  always  told  you,"  said  he,  "that  you 
should  not  put  so  much  poetry  into  your  philosophy. 
It  misleads  people." 

"It  didn't  mislead  that  ghost  girl,"  said  I. 

"How  do  you  know?"  said  Bentley.  "Perhaps 
she  is  wrong,  and  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  city 


150      PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELATIVE  EXISTENCES 

are  right,  and  we  may  be  the  ghosts  after  all.  Such 
things,  you  know,  are  only  relative.  Anyway,"  he 
continued,  after  a  little  pause,  "I  wish  I  knew  that 
those  ghosts  were  now  reading  the  poem  which  I  am 
going  to  begin  to-morrow." 


THE  KNIFE  THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 


PO  HANCY  was  the  chief  of  a  band  of  Dacoit 
robbers,  those  outlaws  who  for  years  have  rav 
aged  portions  of  British  Burmah,  killing,  stealing, 
and  burning,  and  regarding  not  whether  the  sufferers 
were  their  own  people  or  white-skinned  foreigners. 
Prominent  among  these  midnight  assassins  and  rob 
bers  was  Po  Hancy  j  but  he  came  to  his  just  reward  at 
last,  being  trapped  and  killed  by  two  native  spies,  and 
the  knife  by  which  his  head  was  severed  from  his  body 
lay  on  my  library  table.  It  had  been  sent  to  me  by  a 
missionary  friend  to  whom  it  had  been  brought  as  a 
trophy  of  the  superior  valor  of  the  loyal  and  somewhat 
civilized  natives  over  that  of  the  outlaws  of  the  jungle. 
It  was  a  rude  weapon,  with  a  heavy  blade  nearly  nine 
inches  long,  enclosed  in  a  wooden  sheath,  and  with  a 
beautifully  polished  handle  of  bone-like  wood.  On 
the  point  of  the  blade  and  on  its  sides  were  great 
blotches  of  rust,  caused  by  the  blood  of  Po  Hancy. 

This  formidable  weapon  with  its  history  was  very 
interesting  to  me;  I  could  sympathize  with  the 
joyful  satisfaction  with  which  the  little  band  of  mis 
sionaries  had  looked  upon  the  knife  as  a  blessed  sleep- 
giver,  an  assurance  that  they  need  no  longer  lie  awake 

151 


152          THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

on  account  of  rumors  of  the  approach  of  that  blood 
thirsty  and  unconvertible  heathen  and  his  band. 

More  than  that,  it  had  another  interest  for  me;  it 
made  me  think  of  the  man  who  had  come  to  his  death 
by  it.  The  idea  struck  me  that  Po  Hancy  and  I  were 
as  different  from  each  other  as  two  human  beings 
could  possibly  be.  To  arrange  our  differences  in  a 
tabulated  statement  would  be  a  work  of  a  good  deal  of 
time  and  very  little  value,  but  there  was  one  dissimi 
larity  between  us  that  particularly  impressed  itself 
upon  me :  I  had  heard  a  good  deal  of  this  tiger-like 
Dacoit  crawling  through  the  jungles  for  ten,  fifteen, 
or  twenty  miles,  leaping  down  rocks  with  foothold  as 
silent  and  certain  as  that  of  a  cat,  and  bounding  upon 
his  victims  with  a  strength  and  swiftness  of  an  untir 
ing  beast  of  prey. 

How  different  was  I  —  a  languid,  soft-fleshed,  almost 
middle-aged  lawyer,  tired  out  by  sedentary  work,  by 
night  and  by  day,  to  whom  a  walk  of  half  a  mile  was 
weariness,  and  a  climb  to  my  office  on  the  fifth  floor 
of  a  lofty  building  was  a  backache.  As  a  young  man 
I  had  been  somewhat  athletic,  but  years  of  too  much 
work  of  one  kind,  and  too  little  of  another,  had  made 
activity  a  memory,  and  wholesome  exercise  a  discom 
fort.  Po  Hancy  was  a  specimen  of  perfect  animal  life, 
and  of  the  most  imperfect  life  of  the  mind  and  soul. 
My  body  resembled  his  mind  and  soul;  of  my  mind 
and  soul  I  will  say  nothing,  being  of  a  modest 
disposition. 

Po  Hancy  was  gone,  utterly  departed  and  annihi 
lated,  with  the  exception  of  the  atoms  of  dried  blood 
which  might  yet  remain  in  the  blotches  of  rust  upon 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY        153 

this  ugly  knife-blade.  Strangely  enough,  it  was  pos 
sible  that  something  which  helped  to  make  up  that 
fierce  Dacoit,  some  portions,  minute  though  they  might 
be,  of  his  very  self,  might  lie  here  before  me,  in  my 
library,  by  my  prayer-book,  and  a  recent  letter  from 
my  mother,  in  a  home  of  high  civilization,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  world  from  the  Burmese  jungle. 

As  I  sat  thinking  of  these  things  I  took  out  my 
pocket-knife,  and  began  to  scratch  the  spots  of  rust 
upon  the  blade,  and  succeeded  in  detaching  a  little  of 
the  fine  dust  from  the  iron,  oxidized  by  means  of  Po 
Hancy's  life  currents.  There  was  so  little  of  it,  that 
I  had  to  moisten  the  end  of  my  knife-blade  in  order  to 
take  it  up,  and  carefully  look  at  it.  Of  course  to  the 
eye  it  was  like  any  other  iron  rust,  but  to  my  mind  it 
was  far  different.  If  there  really  were  still  atoms  of 
blood  in  it,  it  was  all,  or  nearly  all,  that  remained 
above  earth  of  the  famous  Po  Hancy. 

Involuntarily  I  balanced  my  penknife  on  my  finger, 
as  if  to  weigh  this  infinitesimal  remnant  of  savage 
mortality,  when  suddenly  the  knife  slipped,  and  in 
endeavoring  to  catch  it,  the  point  ran  into  the  thumb 
of  my  left  hand,  inflicting  a  slight  wound.  For  a 
moment  I  was  frightened.  Here  was  an  example  of 
the  folly  of  playing  with  edged  tools,  especially  those 
that  had  belonged  to  savage  heathens.  This  knife  of 
the  slayer  of  the  Dacoit  might  have  been  poisoned,  and 
here  I  had  wounded  myself  with  the  point  of  my  own 
knife,  to  which  adhered  the  dust  I  had  scraped  from 
it.  It  was  horrible  to  think  that  in  a  few  hours  I 
might  perish  by  the  same  knife  that  slew  that  fero 
cious  murderer! 


154         THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

After  a  time,  however,  I  calmed  myself,  for  I  had 
never  heard  that  the  Burmese  used  poisoned  weapons, 
and  when  several  days  had  passed  without  my  having 
felt  any  evil  effects  from  the  wound,  which  soon 
healed,  I  felt  perfectly  safe.  In  fact,  instead  of  there 
being  any  injurious  result  from  the  cut  (or  the  not 
inconsiderable  nervous  shock  consequent  upon  it),  I 
found  myself  in  rather  better  health  than  usual,  and 
one  afternoon  I  walked  across  the  Common,  through 
the  Public  Garden,  and  four  or  five  blocks  beyond,  to 
my  home,  and  did  not  feel  the  least  fatigue.  I  had 
not  had  an  experience  of  this  kind  for  two  or  three 
years. 

During  the  next  few  weeks,  many  of  my  friends 
remarked  that  my  health  was  certainly  improving,  and 
there  could  be  no  doubt  that  they  were  correct.  I 
began  to  take  walks  that  were  moderately  long.  I 
played  billiards,  that  used  to  tire  me  so  much  that 
I  seldom  played  a  whole  game.  And  what  surprised 
everybody,  and  myself  quite  as  much,  I  joined  an 
athletic  club.  This  numbered  among  its  members  a 
dozen  or  more  of  my  friends,  nearly  all  of  whom,  at 
one  time  or  another,  had  pressed  me  to  join  the  club, 
assuring  me  that  it  was  the  best  thing  I  could  do  if  I 
wished  to  regain  my  old  strength  and  activity,  but 
I  had  always  refused.  The  very  idea  of  gymnastic 
exercise  was  disagreeable  to  me,  and  I  was  annoyed 
at  their  persistence  in  advising  it. 

Now  they  were  astonished  at  my  change  of  opinion, 
and  some  of  them  were  inclined  to  ridicule  me,  sug 
gesting  some  very  easy  and  mild  methods  of  exercise 
suitable  for  a  small  boy  beginner.  But  they  stopped 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY        155 

that  sort  of  chaff,  when  I  raised  a  vaulting-bar  several 
inches  higher  than  the  last  performer  had  left  it,  and 
then  went  over  it  without  touching;  and  when,  seizing 
a  trapeze  bar,  I  drew  up  my  body  and  threw  myself 
around  it  with  the  ease  of  a  circus  man,  some  of  them 
remembered  that  I  used  to  do  that  sort  of  thing,  but 
that  I  could  return  to  it  now,  after  all  these  years  of 
desk  work,  amazed  them. 

I  kept  up  my  gymnastic  exercises  nearly  every  day, 
and  as  the  club  was  to  give  a  public  exhibition  early 
in  the  autumn,  I  felt  inclined  to  take  part  in  it.  All 
my  love  for  athletic  sport  had  returned.  But  in  spite 
of  my  undoubted  activity,  there  were  a  good  many 
men  in  the  club  who  were  greatly  my  superiors  in 
athletic  feats,  and  there  was  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
I  would  achieve  any  especial  distinction  in  the  public 
games.  The  conviction  of  this  somewhat  dampened 
my  desire  to  become  a  contestant  on  so  important  an 
occasion,  and  I  sat  down  one  evening  to  consider  the 
matter.  "  In  the  first  place, "  I  said  to  myself,  "  how 
did  I  regain  all  my  old  strength  and  activity?  I  have 
not  altered  my  method  of  living,  my  diet  is  the  same, 
I  have  had  no  change  of  air."  At  this  moment  my 
eye  fell  on  the  knife  that  killed  Po  Hancy,  which  still 
lay  upon  my  table.  "  By  George ! "  I  exclaimed, 
springing  to  my  feet,  "could  it  have  been  that?" 

My  face  flushed  and  my  whole  form  glowed  as  I 
remembered  how  I  had  fancied  I  had  poisoned  myself 
by  introducing  into  my  veins  the  stuff  I  had  scraped 
from  the  Burmese  knife.  And  now,  could  it  be? 
Was  it  by  any  means  possible  that  I  had  accidentally 
inoculated  myself  with  some  of  the  blood  of  Po 


156         THE  KNIFE  THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

Hancy,  and  in  so  doing  had  introduced  into  my  system 
some  of  his  savage  vigor  and  agility ! 

The  more  I  thought  of  this,  the  more  strongly  I 
became  convinced  that  it  was  so.  I  am  a  scientist  in 
an  amateur  way,  and  I  take  a  great  interest  in  experi 
ments  such  as  those  performed  by  Brown-Sequard  and 
Dr.  Koch.  If  certain  physical  attributes  of  one  class 
of  living  beings  could  be  communicated  to  another  by 
inoculation,  or  hypodermic  injection,  why  should  not 
another  physical  attribute  be  transmitted  in  the  same 
way?  I  could  see  no  reason  why  this  should  not  be 
so,  and  in  fact,  I  believed  myself  a  proof  that  the 
thing  could  be  done. 

Now,  if  I  possessed  some  of  the  high  physical  quali 
ties  of  the  defunct  Po  Hancy,  why  should  I  not  possess 
them  to  a  greater  degree?  What  he  had  in  perfection 
was  what  I  lacked.  If  I  could  get  what  he  110  longer 
needed,  and  what,  indeed,  I  would  gladly  have 
deprived  him  of,  whether  I  had  been  able  to  get  it  or 
not,  why  should  I  not  have  it?  There  was  really 
nothing  to  object  to  in  this  proposition,  and  I  deter 
mined  to  make  an  experiment. 

Eubbing  some  glycerine  over  the  blood  spots  upon 
the  Dacoit  knife,  I  scraped  vigorously  until  I  accumu 
lated  a  little  mass  of  the  gummy  substance.  Then 
baring  my  left  arm,  and  excoriating  a  little  spot 
on  it,  as  if  I  were  about  to  vaccinate  myself,  I 
rubbed  in  the  compound.  "Now,"  said  I,  wrap 
ping  a  handkerchief  around  my  arm,  "we  shall  see 
what  we  shall  see." 

The  next  morning,  our  waitress,  who  was  just  enter 
ing  the  breakfast  room,  saw  what  she  did  see.  She 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCT         157 

saw  me  come  in  at  another  door,  look  at  the  table  set 
ready  for  the  family  breakfast,  with  a  large  bouquet, 
a  foot  and  a  half  high,  in  the  centre  of  the  table,  run 
a  few  steps,  and  then  bound  entirely  over  said  table, 
bouquet  and  all,  and  come  down  upon  the  other  side 
with  an  elastic  thud,  as  if  I  had  been  made  of  India 
rubber.  She  screamed,  and  although  I  had  not  touched 
anything,  stood  expecting  a  crash. 

"  Merciful  me,  sir!  "  she  exclaimed,  when  she  found 
nothing  was  about  to  happen;  "I  never  did  see  any 
body  so  supple." 

When  my  two  sisters  came  down,  —  with  me  they 
made  up  the  family,  for  my  mother  was  in  Europe, — 
I  had  to  tell  them  about  this  jump,  for  I  did  not  want 
the  girl  to  do  it. 

"I  have  noticed,  Harry,"  said  Amelia,  "that  you 
have  changed  very  much  of  late.  You  are  as  springy 
as  a  Jack-in-the-Box,  and  you  used  to  be  so  poky  and 
stiff.  I  think  you  ought  not  to  do  that  sort  of  thing 
in  the  house.  Suppose  you  had  swept  everything  off 
this  table,  what  a  lot  of  damage  you  would  have  done. 
And  I  have  had  to  have  the  stair-carpet  stretched  and 
replaced  because  you  will  persist  in  going  up  three 
steps  at  a  time,  and  getting  it  all  out  of  shape." 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  Harry  is  feeling  so  strong  and 
well, "  said  Jenny ;  "  and  I  am  going  to  teach  him  to 
play  tennis." 

I  laughed  internally  as  I  thought  of  a  man  with  my 
nimble  power  playing  a  baby  game  like  tennis. 

The  inoculation  with  the  blood  of  Po  Hancy  was 
undoubtedly  a  success.  I  could  feel  strength  and 
vigor  bounding  through  my  veins;  without  hesitation 


158          THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

I  announced  myself  as  a  candidate  for  athletic  honors 
in  the  approaching  games. 

I  will  not  here  relate  the  feats  I  performed  on  the 
great  field  of  our  club.  In  contests  of  hurling,  lifting, 
and  all  that,  I  took  no  part;  but  in  running,  jumping, 
vaulting,  bounding,  I  excelled  all  competitors  and 
broke  several  records.  Had  Po  Hancy  been  in  my 
place,  he  might  have  done  better,  but  without  the 
influence  of  Po  Hancy's  wild  blood  no  one  on  the 
grounds  could  have  done  as  well.  This  is  what  I  said 
to  myself  as  the  crowd  roared  out  its  applause,  and  my 
friends  gathered  around  me  to  shake  my  hand. 

Not  only  was  my  whole  habit  of  life  changed,  but 
the  changes  went  on.  I  was  not  content  to  be  able  to 
bound  like  a  tiger  and  run  like  a  deer,  but  I  wanted 
to  do  these  things.  Several  times  Avhen  coming  home 
from  my  office  in  the  evening,  I  was  stopped  by  police 
men  who  wanted  to  know  what  I  was  running  away 
from.  I  had  some  difficulty  in  persuading  them  that 
I  ran  purely  from  a  love  of  exercise,  and  they  advised 
against  such  speed  in  the  public  streets.  Late  at  night 
I  used  to  have  grand  runs  in  the  Common,  but  this  did 
not  suit  me  very  well.  There  were  sometimes  observ 
ers,  and  the  place  was  too  open.  I  liked  better  the 
Public  Gardens,  which  afterward  became  my  nightly 
exercise  ground. 

With  a  pair  of  soft  tennis-shoes  on  my  feet  it  was 
my  delight  to  steal  swiftly  around  masses  of  shrub 
bery,  dart  up  avenues,  slip  before  the  eyes  of  aston 
ished  policemen,  and  vanish  into  the  shade,  to  bound 
into  the  branches  of  some  heavily  foliaged  tree,  and 
watch  the  guardian  of  the  peace  stalking  below  me, 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  1IANCY         159 

and  then  when  he  had  passed,  to  drop  noiselessly  down 
to  track  him  over  the  whole  of  his  beat,  without  his 
suspecting  that  my  soft-falling  footsteps  followed 
his. 

I  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  my  business,  as 
had  been  my  custom,  and  I  indulged  in  exercise  and 
long  walks,  even  in  the  daytime,  when  I  should  have 
been  at  my  office.  I  felt  a  great  desire  to  hunt  —  I 
do  not  mean  to  follow  the  hounds  in  their  courses 
about  the  Boston  suburbs,  but  to  tramp  through  the 
wild  woods  and  kill  things  with  a  rifle.  As  there  was 
little  scope  for  this  sort  of  sport  in  the  coast  country 
of  Massachusetts,  I  wanted  to  take  a  trip  to  the  lower 
part  of  Florida,  for  it  was  too  late  in  the  season  to  go 
far  West.  In  the  forests  down  there  I  was  sure  I 
could  still  find  wild  game,  and  if  a  wandering  Sem- 
inole  Indian  happened  to  interfere  with  me,  or  a 
reckless  alligator-hunter  picked  a  quarrel  with  me,  I 
felt  that  I  would  be  very  well  able  to  take  care  of 
myself. 

My  law  partners,  however,  objected  very  strongly  to 
my  leaving  town  in  the  midst  of  our  busiest  season, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  postpone  my  contemplated  trip. 
One  of  the  members  of  our  firm  jocosely  remarked  to 
me  that  so  far  as  business  was  concerned  I  was  a  better 
man  when  I  was  not  so  well.  And  my  sisters,  who 
used  to  object  to  Avalking  with  me  because  I  was  so 
much  given  to  going  slowly,  and  stopping  often,  now 
declined  to  accompany  me  because  I  strode  so  rapidly 
that  it  tired  them  to  keep  up  with  me.  In  fact,  in  the 
whole  of  Boston,  I  did  not  know  any  one  who  shared 
my  fancies  for  what  might  be  called  super-exercise, 


160          THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

and  I  was  obliged  to  be  content  with  my  own  company 
in  my  morning  bounces  and  my  evening  spins. 

But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  I  lost  at  this  time 
my  desire  for  companionship;  in  truth,  a  novel  desire 
of  that  sort  sprang  up  within  me.  A  distant  relative 
of  my  mother,  who  had  always  been  accustomed  to 
spend  some  weeks  with  us  in  the  autumn,  now  came 
to  make  her  annual  visit.  This  was  a  lady  of  thirty 
or  thereabouts,  by  the  name  of  Susan  Mooney.  She 
was  the  kindest,  gentlest,  quietest,  softest  woman  in 
the  world.  Her  disposition  was  so  tender  that  if  one 
spoke  to  her  of  trouble  or  pain,  the  tears  would  almost 
always  come  into  her  eyes. 

My  sisters  were  sorry  that  Susan  had  made  her  visit 
this  year  during  the  absence  of  our  mother ;  for  although 
they  liked  her  and  loved  her,  they  did  not  find  her  a 
congenial  companion.  They  were  lively  girls,  fond 
of  society,  while  she  was  the  quietest  of  the  quiet,  and 
fond  of  home.  Consequently,  they  were  well  pleased 
when  they  found  that  I  seemed  to  fancy  Susan's  com 
pany,  for  that  relieved  them  of  the  burden.  But  after 
a  week  or  two  their  feelings  changed,  and  they  told 
me  they  thought  I  was  giving  entirely  too  much  of  my 
time  to  Susan.  My  family  had  come  to  look  upon  me 
as  a  bachelor  who  would  never  think  of  marrying,  and 
it  would  have  surprised  them  to  see  me  paying  marked 
attention  to  any  lady.  But  when  my  sisters  saw  me 
paying  attention,  so  very  marked  indeed,  to  Susan 
Mooney,  they  were  not  only  surprised,  but  offended. 

"If  you  are  going  to  marry  anybody,"  said  Amelia, 
"  do  take  some  one  who  is  suitable  for  you.  Mother 
is  very  fond  of  Susan,  and  we  like  her,  but  she  would 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY         161 

never  do  for  a  wife  for  you.     She  is  no  better  than  a 
bag  of  milk." 

I  looked  at  them  and  smiled.  It  was  true  that  I 
had  taken  Susan  to  the  theatre  or  concerts,  evening 
after  evening,  although  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
declining  to  go  to  such  places  with  my  sisters ;  that  I 
made  her  take  long  walks  with  me ;  that  I  spent  hours 
with  her  when  I  should  have  been  in  my  office ;  and 
that  lately  she  had  been  known  to  flush  a  little 
when  I  came  into  the  room  where  she  was. 

"  Susan  Mooney,"  I  said,  "  is  exactly  the  kind  of  girl 
—  or  lady  —  that  I  like.  She  is  so  gentle,  so  docile, 
so  submissive,  that  —  " 

"  Submissive !  "  snapped  Jenny;  " I  should  think  so. 
She  has  not  the  least  bit  of  will  of  her  own.  You 
would  become  a  perfect  tyrant  with  a  wife  like  that. 
I  believe  she  would  grow  to  tremble  when  she  heard 
your  footstep." 

"I  do  not  say,"  I  answered,  "that  I  am  going  to 
marry  Susan,  nor  that  I  am  going  to  marry  anybody ; 
but  if  I  ever  do  take  a  wife,  I  want  one  who  will 
tremble  when  she  hears  my  footstep." 

They  both  laughed.  "For  a  mild-mannered  man," 
cried  Amelia,  "  you  talk  bigger  than  any  one  I  ever 
heard.  The  idea  that  any  one  could  ever  tremble  at 
your  footstep  is  ridiculous." 

I  made  no  answer.  It  was  well  that  they  could  not 
analyze  the  blood  that  now  ran  in  my  veins.  To  me 
Susan  Mooney  was  attractive  to  a  degree  that  no  other 
woman  had  been.  I  would  not  cease  my  attentions  to 
her,  but,  perhaps,  since  my  sisters  seemed  so  observ 
ant,  I  would  be  more  wary  about  them. 


162         THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

I  had  used  to  be  somewhat  of  a  submissive  person 
myself,  but  I  was  such  no  longer.  I  did  not  always 
state  my  determination  to  do  things  against  the  opin 
ions  and  wishes  of  others,  but  the  determination  was 
never  altered.  I  grew  to  like  to  put  myself  in  oppo 
sition,  especially  if  the  other  party  did  not  know  how  I 
stood.  This  I  flattered  myself  might  be  a  good  thing 
for  a  lawyer,  but  it  was  very  different  from  my  old 
methods  of  thought  and  action.  I  also  felt  occasional 
desires  to  put  myself  in  physical  opposition  to  some 
one.  I  did  not  feel  quarrelsome,  but  if  I  had  seen 
a  reasonable  opportunity  of  obtruding  my  physical 
superiority  on  a  fellow-being,  I  should  have  been  glad 
to  avail  myself  of  it.  Civilized  society  does  not  offer 
chances  of  this  sort,  sufficiently  often,  to  satisfy  Po 
Hancyish  cravings. 

One  evening  as  I  was  sitting  in  my  library  and 
study  on  the  third  floor,  I  heard  a  slight  noise  down 
stairs  as  if  from  the  opening  of  a  door.  I  knew  that 
the  rest  of  the  family  had  all  retired,  and  I  naturally 
thought  that  a  burglar  was  trying  to  enter  the  house. 
The  moment  this  idea  came  into  my  mind,  my  whole 
body  thrilled  with  a  warm  ecstasy.  I  slipped  off  my 
shoes,  and  stole  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  listened  — 
I  heard  the  noise  again !  Darting  back  into  my  room,  I 
buttoned  my  dark  coat  tight  around  my  neck  to  con 
ceal  my  white  collar,  and  then  seizing  the  knife  that 
killed  Po  Hancy,  I  silently  glided  down  the  stairway. 
My  eyes  must  have  glistened  with  the  expectant  joy 
of  meeting  a  burglar.  What  transporting  delight  it 
would  be  to  steal  upon  the  rascal  and  slay  him  with 
one  blow.  It  is  so  seldom  that  one  gets  an  opportunity 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY         163 

to  legitimately  slay  a  rascal,  or  indeed  any  one.  I  do 
not  say  that  I  would  have  decoyed  a  burglar  into  the 
house  for  the  purpose  of  slaying  him,  but  if  one  were 
really  here  of  his  own  accord,  how  gladly  would  I 
exercise  my  legal  rights. 

Down  the  stairs  I  went,  bending  low,  with  eyes 
peering  into  the  dark,  with  ears  stretched  to  catch  the 
slightest  sound,  and  with  the  knife  that  killed  Po 
Hancy  half  raised  in  my  right  hand.  I  went  through 
all  the  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  I  descended  into  the 
cellar,  feeling  my  way  about  in  the  darkness,  and 
stopping  at  intervals  to  listen.  I  even  penetrated  to 
the  back  of  the  coal-bin,  and  I  remember  thinking 
with  pride  how  I  stepped  so  carefully  as  to  scarcely 
disturb  the  coals  that  were  piled  about  me. 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  same  noise  that  I  had  noticed 
before.  It  was  above  me,  and  with  a  quick  and  silent 
bound  I  was  at  the  top  of  the  cellar  stairs.  Here  I 
found  what  had  made  the  noise ;  it  was  a  door  at  this 
spot  which  had  been  left  open.  I  noticed  that  it  was 
not  fastened  when  I  came  down,  but  thought  nothing 
of  it.  A  ventilating  window  was  near  by,  and  when 
a  puff  of  wind  came  into  this  window  the  door  was 
opened  a  little  way,  and  then  slowly  swung  back  of  its 
own  inclination. 

When  I  discovered  the  facts  of  the  case,  I  could 
almost  have  cried.  I  felt  that  I  had  sustained  a  cruel 
disappointment.  Chagrined  and  depressed,  I  walked 
slowly  into  the  dining-room  and  sat  down,  debating 
with  myself  whether  or  not  I  would  care  to  put  on  my 
hat  and  take  a  long  night  run.  While  sitting  thus,  I 
heard  some  one  coming  down  the  stairs  with  slow  and 


164         THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

deliberate  footsteps.  I  knew  those  footsteps;  they 
were  those  of  Mary  Carpenter,  our  good  old  house 
keeper.  Ashamed  that  she  should  find  me  sitting  in 
the  dark,  I  got  up  and  began  to  look  for  matches,  but 
before  I  found  them,  she  entered,  carrying  a  lighted 
candle. 

"  Mercy  on  me,  Mr.  Harry !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What 
on  earth  are  you  doing  here  in  the  dark?  I  just 
remembered  that  I  did  not  fasten  the  top  cellar  door, 
and  I  came  down  to  do  it.  Are  you  sick?  " 

"No,"  I  answered;  "I  am  hungry,  and  I  came  down 
to  get  some  pie.  I  was  just  going  to  strike  a  light." 

"Well,  well!"  exclaimed  the  good  Mary;  "that 
is  just  like  you,  Mr.  Harry.  When  you  were  a  boy, 
and  even  a  young  man,  you  were  always  wanting  to 
eat  pie  at  night,  and  there  were  some  that  said  that 
you  would  have  had  better  health  if  you  had  not  done 
so  much  of  it.  But  for  my  part,  I  can't  see  any  harm 
in  eating  good  wholesome  pie,  when  a  body  feels 
hungry  for  it.  I  have  not  heard  you  say  you  wanted 
some  pie  for  a  long  while,  and  it  seems  like  good  old 
times  to  give  you  some  after  everybody  else  is  in  bed. 
Now,  it  is  lucky  that  I  made  to-day,  with  my  own 
hands,  the  first  pumpkin  pies  of  the  season.  I'll  get 
one  and  cut  you  a  piece.  Goodness  gracious,  Mr. 
Harry !  You  didn't  mean  to  cut  one  of  my  pies  with 
that  horrible  knife,  did  you?  If  you  did,  I  am  truly 
glad  that  I  came  down  in  time  to  stop  you.  A  heathen 
knife  in  a  Christian  pie  is  something  I  never  heard  of 
yet,  and  I  hope  never  to.  It  would  poison  it." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  good  Mary  placed  before  me  a 
noble  specimen  of  her  pastry-cooking. 


THE  KNIFE  THAT  KILLED  PO  I1ANCY         165 

"  There,"  said  she,  "is  a  pumpkin  pie  fit  for  a  king, 
only  kings  never  get  them ;  and  I  suppose  they  would 
call  it  a  pudding  in  England,  if  they  had  it  at  all. 
It's  a  good  inch  and  a  half  thick,  the  Avay  you  always 
liked  them,  and  I  am  sure  a  piece  of  it  will  not  hurt 
you." 

She  cut  a  generous  segment  of  the  pie  and  gave  it 
to  me  on  a  plate.  She  was  delighted  to  see  with  what 
pleasure  I  ate  it,  and  when  I  asked  for  another  piece 
she  was  surprised,  but  gave  it  to  me.  When  I  asked 
for  a  third  piece,  she  demurred  a  little,  but  in  spite  of 
her  really  earnest  protestations,  I  helped  myself  to 
more,  and  eventually  finished  the  whole  pie,  which 
was  of  a  size  sufficient  for  an  ordinary  family. 

"  Well,  well !  "  said  Mary,  as  she  took  away  my  plate 
and  the  empty  pie-dish ;  "  this  beats  anything  you  ever 
did  when  you  were  a  boy.  I  only  hope  that  you  won't 
feel  badly  in  the  night ;  but  if  you  do,  come  to  my  door 
and  knock.  It  won't  take  me  a  minute  to  mix  some 
peppermint  for  you,  or  give  you  anything  else  you 
need." 

I  did  not  wonder  that  the  good  Mary  was  astonished 
at  the  midnight  appetite  of  a  Po  Hancy.  I  began  to 
fear,  however,  that  I  had  been  imprudent  in  letting 
this  appetite  run  away  with  me,  and  felt  very  glad 
that  there  was  some  one  in  the  house  who  knew  what 
to  do  for  victims  of  unreasonable  voracity.  However, 
there  was  no  occasion  for  her  services,  for  I  went  to 
bed  and  slept  the  sleep  of  an  infant.  In  the  morning 
when  I  awoke,  fresh  and  clear-headed,  with  a  whole 
some  appetite  for  my  breakfast,  I  felt  what  it  was  to 
possess  the  digestion  of  a  Dacoit. 


166          THE  KNIFE  THAT  KILLED  PO  HANOY 

The  wonderful  physical  powers  with  which  I  felt 
myself  endowed  were  sources  of  the  greatest  satisfac 
tion  to  me,  but  they  began  to  have  their  drawbacks, 
and  after  a  time  they  caused  me  great  mental  uneasi 
ness.  Because  I  knew  myself  perfectly  able  to  do 
certain  things  which  I  ought  not  to  do,  I  wished  to  do 
them.  For  instance,  there  was  a  stout  man  of  German 
Jewish  aspect,  who,  before  my  Po  Haiicy  days,  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  going  home  from  his  business 
about  the  same  time  that  I  did,  and  frequently  took 
the  street  car  in  which  I  was  riding.  This  man,  if  it 
were  possible,  always  seated  himself  next  to  me, 
thinking,  I  imagined,  that  as  I  was  rather  a  slender 
man,  he  would  have  a  better  chance  of  crowding  me, 
and  getting  more  than  his  share  of  room  in  case  the 
car  became  full.  And  when  this  opportunity  was 
afforded  him,  he  always  availed  himself  of  it  to  the 
utmost.  I  sometimes  remonstrated  with  him,  and 
sometimes  tried  to  crowd  him  a  little;  but  neither 
course  was  of  any  service,  and  it  not  unfrequently 
happened  that  I  got  up  and  stood  on  the  platform  to 
avoid  this  unsavory  persecutor. 

As  I  now  thought  of  this  man,  my  blood  boiled 
within  me.  I  did  not,  at  this  time,  ride  in  street 
cars,  for  I  felt  no  need  of  them,  but  I  felt  greatly 
tempted  to  get  into  one  at  the  hour  I  usually  left  my 
office,  in  the  hope  that  the  stout  man  would. enter  and 
sit  beside  me.  If  this  should  happen,  and  he  should 
dare  to  push  or  elbow  me,  I  would  spring  upon  him 
and  hurl  him  out  of  the  door  of  the  car,  no  matter  how 
rapidly  it  might  be  moving.  I  ground  my  teeth  in 
savage  anticipation  of  the  joy  I  would  take  in  thus 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY         167 

avenging  myself  for  all  his  former  insults.  But  my 
common  sense  and  my  familiarity  with,  the  common 
law  showed  me  that  this  would  be  a  very  foolish 
thing  to  do,  certain  to  bring  me  into  trouble,  and 
even  ridicule,  which  would  be  worse.  My  uncivilized 
instincts  were  so  strong  that  frequently  I  was  obliged, 
figuratively,  to  put  my  hand  upon  my  own  shoulder 
to  prevent  myself  from  entering  a  car  in  which  there 
was  a  chance  of  encountering  the  stout  German. 

There  were  other  novel  and  perhaps  aboriginal  crav 
ings  which  came  upon  me  at  this  time.  One  of  these 
was  an  abnormal  longing  to  possess  desirable  objects. 
For  instance,  in  a  jeweller's  window,  which  I  fre 
quently  passed,  there  was  a  handsome  brooch  which 
attracted  my  favorable  attention.  It  was  composed 
of  a  large  stone  of  the  moonstone  order,  artistically 
surrounded  by  brilliants.  It  struck  me  that  this 
would  be  a  most  appropriate  ornament  for  the  gentle 
Susan.  Several  times  I  stood  looking  at  it  and  plan 
ning  how  I  might  get  it  for  her  without  resort  to  the 
usual  methods  of  exchange.  A  strong  tap  on  the 
window  pane,  a  quick  snatch,  and  then  a  series  of 
dartings  and  doublings,  along  a  route  which  I  had 
marked  out  in  my  mind,  —  around  a  corner,  up  an 
alley,  over  the  fences  of  two  back  yards  that  I  had 
noted,  into  a  small  street,  where  I  would  change  my 
soft  light-colored  felt  hat  for  a  dark  travelling-cap 
which  I  would  have  in  my  pocket.  Then  a  rush  into 
a  crowded  thoroughfare,  and  a  leisurely  walk  home. 
But  this  scheme  did  not  altogether  please  me ;  I  would 
have  better  liked,  in  the  dark  hours  of  the  morning,  to 
climb  a  tree  which  stood  before  the  jeweller's  shop, 


168          THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCT 

to  go  out  on  a  limb  until  it  bent  down  to  the  level  of 
the  transom  window  over  the  top  of  the  door,  to  open 
this,  slip  in,  pocket  the  brooch,  climb  up  to  the  tran 
som,  listen,  drop  outside,  and  noiselessly  glide  away. 

I  had  entirely  too  many  fancies  of  this  kind,  and 
when  away  from  my  temptations,  my  mind  was  seri 
ously  troubled  by  the  thoughts  of  the  dangers  to  which 
I  was  exposed;  this  robber  blood  was  making  a  differ 
ent  man  of  me,  a  man  who  ran  the  risk  of  ending  his 
life  in  a  prison.  I  used  to  ponder  for  hours  upon  my 
alarming  condition.  Sometimes  I  thought  of  myself 
as  another  Mr.  Hyde;  but  alas!  my  case  was  worse 
than  that.  I  was  not  sometimes  good  and  sometimes 
bad;  I  was  under  an  influence  which  was  steadfast 
and  of  increasing  power,  the  effects  of  which,  my  rea 
son  told  me,  must  be  permanent.  When  a  Christian 
gentleman  puts  Dacoit  blood  into  his  veins,  there  is  no 
way  of  his  getting  it  out  again,  except  by  letting  out 
all  of  his  blood, —  a  remedy  I  did  not  fancy.  How 
earnestly  I  wished  Po  Hancy  had  been  converted 
before  he  had  been  killed. 

But  had.  the  robber  chief  repented  and  lived  a 
proper  life,  he  would  not  have  been  killed,  and  I 
would  have  had  no  knife  with  his  blood  on  it,  and  my 
present  physical  perfection  would  never  have  come  to 
me.  When  I  looked  upon  the  matter  in  this  light,  I 
asked  myself  whether  I  would  have  been  satisfied  had 
it  been  so,  and  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  answer 
Yes.  After  all,  it  was  my  vanity  that  had  brought 
this  terrible  peril  upon  me.  Had  I  been  contented 
with  the  little  prick  my  knife  had  given  me,  I  might 
have  been  no  more  than  the  active,  healthy  gentleman 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY         169 

I  had  always  wished  to  be.  But  that  foolish  desire 
to  shine  in  the  athletic  games  had  not  only  given  me 
an  excess  of  strength,  but  also  the  impulses  of  a 
jungle  sneak. 

When  troubled  thus,  my  greatest  relief  was  the 
society  of  Susan  Mooney.  The  flow  of  her  gentle  soul 
was  so  unrippled  that  it  seldom  failed  to  soothe  me. 
Feeling  the  great  good  she  was  to  me,  I  now  made  up 
my  mind  to  marry  her,  and  it  delighted  me  to  think 
that  in  so  doing  I  would  not  be  troubled  by  the 
ordinary  antecedents  of  matrimony.  I  would  simply 
inform  her  that  she  was  to  be  my  wife,  then  all  she 
would  have  to  do  was  to  set  herself  to  the  task  of 
getting  ready  for  the  ceremony.  But  I  could  not  al 
ways  avail  myself  of  the  soothings  of  Susan,  and  the 
agitation  of  my  mind  became  more  harassing  and 
frequent. 

Early  one  evening  I  was  sitting  alone  in  my 
study,  torn  by  a  desire  to  take  a  long  walk  in  the 
suburbs,  and  restrained  by  a  fear  that  if  I  did  so  I 
should  be  induced  to  forget  that  I  was  not  a  prowling 
Dacoit.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  cry  below  stairs;  it  was 
the  voice  of  my  dear  Susan,  in  terror  and  pain.  In 
ten  seconds  I  had  bounded  down  to  the  drawing- 
room,  where,  between  my  two  sisters,  I  found  the  fair 
Susan  almost  fainting  with  one  of  her  white  hands 
reddened  with  her  blood,  and  in  her  lap  the  knife 
that  killed  Po  Hancy.  The  situation  was  quickly 
explained;  that  afternoon  Jenny  had  brought  down 
the  knife  to  show  a  visitor  interested  in  such  things, 
and  now  Susan  had  been  playing  with  it  and  had  cut 
her  finger ! 


170          THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

The  wound  was  not  a  serious  one,  and  the  sufferer 
was  soon  cared  for  and  conducted  to  her  room.  I 
took  the  knife  upstairs,  determined  to  lock  it  up 
securely.  But  as  I  was  about  to  replace  it  in  its 
sheath  I  noticed  that  the  blade  was  discolored  in  sev 
eral  places  with  fresh  blood  —  the  blood  of  Susan, 
still  moist. 

I  sat  for  some  ten  minutes,  earnestly  gazing  upon 
the  knife-blade.  What  a  contrast  —  the  blood  of  Po 
Hancy,  the  blood  of  Susan  Mooney.  As  I  pondered, 
a  thought,  seemingly  filled  with  the  light  of  a  coming 
salvation,  dawned  upon  me.  I  bared  my  right  arm, 
and  with  my  penknife  scratched  the  skin  for  a  space 
of  over  an  inch  in  diameter.  On  this  I  rubbed  the 
moist  blood  of  Susan,  as  much  of  it  as  I  could  get 
from  the  great  knife-blade,  and  which  exceeded  in 
quantity  that  which  I  had  obtained  from  the  rust 
spots.  I  trembled  when  this  deed  was  finished;  I 
did  not  dare  to  think  what  might  happen,  but  I 
hoped. 

The  next  day  my  right  arm  was  very  sore,  and  I 
could  not  write.  I  felt  assured  that  no  one  with 
Dacoit  blood  in  his  veins  should  be  allowed  to  per 
form  an  operation  of  the  nature  of  vaccination.  As 
my  disability,  the  cause  of  which  I  did  not  explain  to 
any  one,  gave  a  reason  for  a  little  vacation,  I  went  off 
to  the  Berkshire  Hills.  The  gay  season  of  Stock- 
bridge  and  Lenox  had  not  yet  come  to  an  end,  and  the 
life  there  interested  me  very  much.  It  was  a  pleas 
ant  change;  for  years  I  had  mingled  very  little  in 
fashionable  society.  I  met  a  good  many  friends  and 
acquaintances,  all  glad  to  have  me  with  them,  but 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY        171 

surprised  as  well  as  pleased  at  my  willingness  to 
enter  into  all  the  festive  doings  of  the  region.  In 
fact,  I  agreed  to  whatever  was  proposed  to  me,  except 
when  two  of  my  fellow-members  of  the  athletic  club 
asked  me  to  join  them  in  a  long  tramp.  This  I  de 
clined,  mainly  for  the  reason  that  they  had  planned  to 
start  very  early  in  the  morning  before  sunrise,  and  I 
would  not  give  up  the  delightful  and  tranquillizing 
hours  of  sleep  which  immediately  precede  a  late 
breakfast. 

At  the  close  of  the  day  after  my  return  I  rode  home 
from  my  office  in  a  street  car.  At  the  corner  where 
I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  expecting  him,  the  stout 
German  got  in.  There  was  an  empty  place  next  to 
me,  large  enough  for  an  ordinary  person,  but  not 
large  enough  for  him.  He  came  directly  toward  me 
and  endeavored  to  squeeze  himself  into  the  vacancy. 
As  he  did  so,  I  moved  as  far  as  possible  away  from 
him,  in  order  to  give  him  the  room  he  desired. 

That  evening  my  sister  Amelia  took  me  aside. 
" Harry,"  said  she,  "I  have  something  very  serious 
to  say  to  you.  Susan  has  had  a  letter  from  mother 
begging  her  to  stay  here  until  her  return.  Now,  this 
will  keep  her  with  us  a  month  longer  at  least,  and  I 
think  this  is  a  very  deplorable  thing." 

"Why  so?"  Tasked. 

"Because  it  will  give  you  an  opportunity  to  carry 
on  your  absurd  courtship  of  her,  and  that  cannot  fail 
to  end  in  your  marrying  her,  and  I  should  like  to 
know,  Harry,  what  could  be  more  deplorable  than 
that?  In  fact,  Jenny  and  I  have  made  up  our  minds 
that  we  will  not  stand  it.  Mother  may  consent  to 


172          THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY 

live  in  the  house  with  that  simple  Susan  as  your  wife, 
but  we  never  will." 

"  My  dear  sister, "  said  I,  "  you  and  Jenny  need  not 
trouble  yourselves  on  that  subject.  I  do  not  in  the 
least  desire  to  marry  Susan  Mooney.  She  is  a  good 
woman,  very  good,  but  she  is  not  the  sort  of  person  I 
would  want  for  a  wife.  I  should  think  you  could  see 
that  for  yourselves.  The  life  of  a  hard-working  man 
like  myself  is  monotonous  enough  without  Susan. 
But  now  that  you  have  spoken  of  marriage,  I  will 
say  that  I  met  two  ladies,  one  in  Stockbridge  and  the 
other  at  Lenox,  either  of  which  would  make  me  a 
good  wife.  I  rather  prefer  the  Lenox  girl,  Miss 
Camilla  Sunderland.  Do  you  know  her?  " 

"  Camilla  Sunderland !  "  exclaimed  my  sister.  "  She 
is  a  leading  belle,  a  dazzling  star  of  the  season.  She 
goes  everywhere,  does  everything,  drives  four-in-hand, 
plays  tennis  matches,  is  devoted  to  balls,  theatre  par 
ties  —  why,  my  dear  Harry,  I  should  think  you  could 
not  exist  with  a  wife  like  that." 

"  Miss  Sunderland, "  said  I,  leaning  back  in  a  soft 
armchair,  "  would  be  just  the  wife  I  dream  of.  I  am 
sure  I  prefer  her  to  the  lady  at  Stockbridge.  I  am 
not  disposed,  as  you  know,  to  take  part,  to  any  great 
extent,  in  the  exciting  life  of  the  fashionable  world, 
but  I  should  wish  to  feel  that  through  my  wife  I  had 
a  part  in  it." 

"  Well ! "  exclaimed  Amelia,  "  you  may  never  get 
Camilla  Sunderland,  but  I  am  truly  glad  that  you 
have  given  up  all  thoughts  of  Susan.  But,  Harry,  a 
very  great  change  must  have  come  over  you;  it  was 
not  long  ago  that  you  told  me  you  wanted  a  wife  who 
would  tremble  at  your  tread." 


THE  KNIFE   THAT  KILLED  PO  HANCY         173 

I  made  a  gesture  of  languid  disapprobation.  "My 
dear  girl,"  said  I,  "I  should  despise  a  woman  who 
would  tremble  at  my  tread." 

I  have  not  yet  married  Miss  Sunderland,  partly  be 
cause  it  is  difficult  for  a  man  of  my  quiet  and  slow 
turn  of  mind  to  follow  and  find  her  in  the  mazes  and 
intricacies  of  the  fashionable  life  in  which  she  exists, 
and  partly  because  my  sisters  have  succeeded  in  mak 
ing  me  doubt  her  acceptance  of  my  addresses  in  case  I 
should  get  an  opportunity  of  offering  them  to  her. 
But  I  want  her,  and  until  she  is  married  to  somebody 
else,  I  shall  continue  to  hope. 

As  for  the  knife  that  killed  Po  Hancy,  I  threw  it 
into  the  Charles  River.  It  was  a  dangerous  knife. 


THE   CHRISTMAS   SHADRACH 


TTTHENEVER  I  make  a  Christmas  present  I  like 
VV  it  to  mean  something ;  not  necessarily  my 
sentiments  toward  the  person  to  whom  I  give  it,  but 
sometimes  an  expression  of  what  I  should  like  that 
person  to  do  or  to  be.  In  the  early  part  of  a  certain 
winter  not  very  long  ago  I  found  myself  in  a  position 
of  perplexity  and  anxious  concern  regarding  a  Christ 
mas  present  which  I  wished  to  make. 

The  state  of  the  case  was  this.  There  was  a  young 
lady,  the  daughter  of  a  neighbor  and  old  friend  of  my 
father,  who  had  been  gradually  assuming  relations 
toward  me  which  were  not  only  unsatisfactory  to  me, 
but  were  becoming  more  and  more  so.  Her  name  was 
Mildred  Bronce.  She  was  between  twenty  and  twenty- 
five  years  of  age,  and  as  fine  a  woman  in  every  way  as 
one  would  be  likely  to  meet  in  a  lifetime.  She  was 
handsome,  of  a  tender  and  generous  disposition,  a  fine 
intelligence,  and  a  thoroughly  well-stocked  mind.  We 
had  known  each  other  for  a  long  time,  and  when  four 
teen  or  fifteen  Mildred  had  been  my  favorite  compan 
ion.  She  was  a  little  younger  than  I,  and  I  liked  her 
better  than  any  boy  I  knew.  Our  friendship  had 
continued  through  the  years,  but  of  late  there  had 

174 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH  175 

been  a  change  in  it ;  Mildred  had  become  very  fond  of 
me,  and  her  fondness  seemed  to  have  in  it  certain 
elements  which  annoyed  me. 

As  a .  girl  to  make  love  to,  no  one  could  be  better 
than  Mildred  Bronce ;  but  I  had  never  made  love  to 
her,  —  at  least  not  earnestly, —  and  I  did  not  wish 
that  any  permanent  condition  of  loving  should  be 
established  between  us.  Mildred  did  not  seem  to 
share  this  opinion ;  for  every  day  it  became  plainer  to 
me  that  she  looked  upon  me  as  a  lover,  and  that  she 
was  perfectly  willing  to  return  my  affection. 

But  I  had  other  ideas  upon  the  subject.  Into  the 
rural  town  in  which  my  family  passed  the  greater  part 
of  the  year  there  had  recently  come  a  young  lady, 
Miss  Janet  Clinton,  to  whom  my  soul  went  out  of  my 
own  option.  In  some  respects,  perhaps,  she  was  not 
the  equal  of  Mildred,  but  she  was  very  pretty ;  she  was 
small,  she  had  a  lovely  mouth,  was  apparently  of  a 
clinging  nature,  and  her  dark  eyes  looked  into  mine 
with  a  tingling  effect  that  no  other  eyes  had  ever  pro 
duced.  I  was  in  love  with  her  because  I  wished  to 
be,  and  the  consciousness  of  this  fact  caused  me  a 
proud  satisfaction.  This  affair  was  not  the  result  of 
circumstances,  but  of  my  own  free  will. 

I  wished  to  retain  Mildred's  friendship,  I  wished  to 
make  her  happy;  and  with  this  latter  intent  in  view  I 
wished  very  much  that  she  should  not  disappoint 
herself  in  her  anticipations  of  the  future. 

Each  year  it  had  been  my  habit  to  make  Mildred  a 
Christmas  present,  and  I  was  now  looking  for  some 
thing  to  give  her  which  would  please  her  and  suit  my 
purpose. 


176  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH 

When  a  man  wishes  to  select  a  present  for  a  lady 
which,  while  it  assures  her  of  his  kind  feeling  toward 
her,  will  at  the  same  time  indicate  that  not  only  has 
he  no  matrimonial  inclinations  in  her  direction,  but 
that  it  would  be  entirely  unwise  for  her  to  have  any 
such  inclinations  in  his  direction  j  that  no  matter  with 
what  degree  of  fondness  her  heart  is  disposed  to  turn 
toward  him,  his  heart  does  not  turn  toward  her,  and 
that,  in  spite  of  all  sentiments  induced  by  long  associ 
ation  and  the  natural  fitness  of  things,  she  need  never 
expect  to  be  to  him  anything  more  than  a  sister,  he 
has,  indeed,  a  difficult  task  before  him.  But  such 
was  the  task  which  I  set  for  myself. 

Day  after  day  I  wandered  through  the  shops.  I 
looked  at  odd  pieces  of  jewelry  and  bric-a-brac,  and  at 
many  a  quaint  relic  or  bit  of  art  work  which  seemed 
to  have  a  meaning,  but  nothing  had  the  meaning  I 
wanted.  As  to  books,  I  found  none  which  satisfied 
me ;  not  one  which  was  adapted  to  produce  the  exact 
impression  that  I  desired. 

One^afteriioon  I  was  in  a  little  basement  shop  kept 
by  a  fellow  in  a  long  overcoat,  who,  so  far  as  I  was 
able  to  judge,  bought  curiosities  but  never  sold  any. 
For  some  minutes  I  had  been  looking  at  a  beautifully 
decorated  saucer  of  rare  workmanship  for  which  there 
was  no  cup  to  match,  and  for  which  the  proprietor 
informed  me  no  cup  could  be  found  or  manufactured. 
There  were  some  points  in  the  significance  of  an  arti 
cle  of  this  sort,  given  as  a  present  to  a  lady,  which 
fitted  to  my  purpose,  but  it  would  signify  too  much :  I 
did  not  wish  to  suggest  to  Mildred  that  she  need  never 
expect  to  find  a  cup.  It  would  be  better,  in  fact,  if  I 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH  177 

gave  her  anything  of  this  kind,  to  send  her  a  cup  and 
saucer  entirely  unsuited  to  each  other,  and  which  could 
not,  under  any  conditions,  be  used  together. 

I  put  down  the  saucer,  and  continued  my  search 
among  the  dusty  shelves  and  cases. 

"How  would  you  like  a  paper-weight?"  the  shop 
keeper  asked.  "Here  is  something  a  little  odd," 
handing  me  a  piece  of  dark-colored  mineral  nearly  as 
big  as  my  fist,  flat  on  the  under  side  and  of  a  pleasing 
irregularity  above.  Around  the  bottom  was  a  band  of 
arabesque  work  in  some  dingy  metal,  probably  German 
silver.  I  smiled  as  I  took  it. 

"This  is  not  good  enough  for  a  Christmas  present," 
I  said.  "I  want  something  odd,  but  it  must  have 
some  value." 

"Well,"  said  the  man,  "that  has  no  real  value,  but 
there  is  a  peculiarity  about  it  which  interested  me 
when  I  heard  of  it,  and  so  I  bought  it.  This  mineral 
is  a  piece  of  what  the  iron-workers  call  shadrach.  It 
is  a  portion  of  the  iron  or  iron  ore  which  passes 
through  the  smelting- furnaces  without  being  affected 
by  the  great  heat,  and  so  they  have  given  it  the  name 
of  one  of  the  Hebrew  youths  who  was  cast  into  the 
fiery  furnace  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  who  came  out 
unhurt.  Some  people  think  there  is  a  sort  of  magical 
quality  about  this  shadrach,  and  that  it  can  give  out 
to  human  beings  something  of  its  power  to  keep  their 
minds  cool  when  they  are  in  danger  of  being  over 
heated.  The  old  gentleman  who  had  this  made  was 
subject  to  fits  of  anger,  and  he  thought  this  piece  of 
shadrach  helped  to  keep  him  from  giving  way  to  them. 
Occasionally  he  used  to  leave  it  in  the  house  of  a 


178  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH 

hot-tempered  neighbor,  believing  that  the  testy  indi 
vidual  would  be  cooled  down  for  a  time,  without 
knowing  how  the  change  had  been  brought  about.  I 
bought  a  lot  of  things  of  the  old  gentleman's  widow, 
and  this  among  them.  I  thought  I  might  try  it  some 
time,  but  I  never  have." 

I  held  the  shadrach  in  my  hand,  ideas  concerning  it 
rapidly  flitting  through  my  mind.  Why  would  not 
this  be  a  capital  thing  to  give  to  Mildred?  If  it 
should,  indeed,  possess  the  quality  ascribed  to  it, 
if  it  should  be  able  to  cool  her  liking  for  me,  what 
better  present  could  I  give  her?  I  did  not  hesitate 
long. 

"  I  will  buy  this, "  I  said ;  "  but  the  ornamentation 
must  be  of  a  better  sort.  It  is  now  too  cheap  and 
tawdry-looking. " 

"I  can  attend  to  that  for  you,"  said  the  shopkeeper. 
"  I  can  have  it  set  in  a  band  of  gold  or  silver  filigree- 
work  like  this,  if  you  choose." 

I  agreed  to  this  proposition,  but  ordered  the  band 
to  be  made  of  silver,  the  cool  tone  of  that  metal  being 
more  appropriate  to  the  characteristics  of  the  gift  than 
the  warmer  hues  of  gold. 

When  I  gave  my  Christmas  present  to  Mildred,  she 
was  pleased  with  it;  its  oddity  struck  her  fancy. 

"I  don't  believe  anybody  ever  had  such  a  paper 
weight  as  that,"  she  said,  as  she  thanked  me.  "What 
is  it  made  of?" 

I  told  her,  and  explained  what  shadrach  was ;  but  I 
did  not  speak  of  its  presumed  influence  over  human 
beings,  which,  after  all,  might  be  nothing  but  the 
wildest  fancy.  I  did  not  feel  altogether  at  my  ease, 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH        179 

as  I  added  that  it  was  merely  a  trifle,  a  thing  of  no 
value  except  as  a  reminder  of  the  season. 

"The  fact  that  it  is  a  present  from  you  gives  it 
value,"  she  said,  as  she  smilingly  raised  her  eyes  to 
mine. 

I  left  her  house  —  we  were  all  living  in  the  city  then 
—  with  a  troubled  conscience.  What  a  deception  I 
was  practising  upon  this  noble  girl,  who,  if  she  did 
not  already  love  me,  was  plainly  on  the  point  of  doing 
so.  She  had  received  my  present  as  if  it  indicated 
a  warmth  of  feeling  on  my  part,  when,  in  fact,  it  was 
the  result  of  a  desire  for  a  cooler  feeling  on  her  part. 

But  I  called  my  reason  to  my  aid,  and  I  showed 
myself  that  what  I  had  given  Mildred  —  if  it  should 
prove  to  possess  any  virtue  at  all  —  was,  indeed,  a 
most  valuable  boon.  It  was  something  which  would 
prevent  the  waste  of  her  affections,  the  wreck  of  her 
hopest  No  kindness  could  be  truer,  no  regard  for  her 
happiness  more  sincere,  than  the  motives  which 
prompted  me  to  give  her  the  shadrach. 

I  did  not  soon  again  see  Mildred,  but  now  as  often 
as  possible  I  visited  Janet.  She  always  received  me 
with  a  charming  cordiality,  and  if  this  should  develop 
into  warmer  sentiments  I  was  not  the  man  to  wish 
to  cool  them.  In  many  ways  Janet  seemed  much 
better  suited  to  me  than  Mildred.  One  of  the  greatest 
charms  of  this  beautiful  girl  was  a  tender  trustfulness, 
as  if  I  were  a  being  on  whom  she  could  lean  and  to 
whom  she  could  look  up.  I  liked  this;  it  was  very 
different  from  Mildred's  manner:  with  the  latter  I 
had  always  been  well  satisfied  if  I  felt  myself  standing 
on  the  same  plane. 


180  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH 

The  weeks  and  months  passed  on,  and  again  we 
were  all  in  the  country;  and  here  I  saw  Mildred  often. 
Our  homes  were  not  far  apart,  and  our  families  were 
very  intimate.  With  my  opportunities  for  frequent 
observation  I  could  not  doubt  that  a  change  had  come 
over  her.  She  was  always  friendly  when  we  met,  and 
seemed  as  glad  to  see  me  as  she  was  to  see  any  other 
member  of  my  family,  but  she  was  not  the  Mildred  I 
used  to  know.  It  was  plain  that  my  existence  did  not 
make  the  same  impression  on  her  that  it  once  made. 
She  did  not  seem  to  consider  it  important  whether  I 
came  or  went;  whether  I  was  in  the  room  or  not; 
whether  I  joined  a  party  or  stayed  away.  All  this 
had  been  very  different.  I  knew  well  that  Mildred 
had  been  used  to  consider  my  presence  as  a  matter  of 
much  importance,  and  I  now  felt  sure  that  my  Christ 
inas  shadrach  was  doing  its  work.  Mildred  was 
cooling  toward  me.  Her  affection,  or,  to  put  it 
more  modestly,  her  tendency  to  affection,  was  gently 
congealing  into  friendship.  This  was  highly  gratify 
ing  to  my  moral  nature,  for  every  day  I  was  doing 
my  best  to  warm  the  soul  of  Janet.  Whether  or 
not  I  succeeded  in  this  I  could  not  be  sure ;  Janet  was 
as  tender  and  trustful  and  charming  as  ever,  but  no 
more  so  than  she  had  been  months  before. 

Sometimes  I  thought  she  was  waiting  for  an  indica 
tion  of  an  increased  warmth  of  feeling  on  my  part 
before  she  allowed  the  temperature  of  her  own  senti 
ments  to  rise.  But  for  one  reason  and  another  I 
delayed  the  solution  of  this  problem.  Janet  was 
very  fond  of  company,  and  although  we  saw  a  great 
deal  of  each  other,  we  were  not  often  alone.  If  we 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH  181 

two  had  more  frequently  walked,  driven,  or  rowed 
together,  as  Mildred  and  I  used  to  do,  I  think  Miss 
Clinton  would  soon  have  had  every  opportunity  of 
making  up  her  mind  about  the  fervor  of  my  passion. 

The  summer  weeks  passed  on,  and  there  was  no 
change  in  the  things  which  now  principally  concerned 
me,  except  that  Mildred  seemed  to  be  growing  more 
and  more  indifferent  to  me.  From  having  seemed  to 
care  no  more  for  me  than  for  her  other  friends,  she 
now  seemed  to  care  less  for  me  than  for  most  people.  I 
do  not  mean  that  she  showed  a  dislike,  but  she  treated 
me  with  a  sort  of  indifference  which  I  did  not  fancy 
at  all.  This  sort  of  thing  had  gone  too  far,  and  there 
was  no  knowing  how  much  further  it  would  go.  It 
was  plain  enough  that  the  shadrach  was  overdoing  the 
business. 

I  was  now  in  a  state  of  much  mental  disquietude. 
Greatly  as  I  desired  to  win  the  love  of  Janet,  it 
grieved  me  to  think  of  losing  the  generous  friendship 
of  Mildred  —  that  friendship  to  which  I  had  been 
accustomed  for  the  greater  part  of  my  life,  and  on 
which,  as  I  now  discovered,  I  had  grown  to  depend. 

In  this  state  of  mind  I  went  to  see  Mildred.  I 
found  her  in  the  library  writing.  She  received  me 
pleasantly,  and  was  sorry  her  father  was  not  at  home, 
and  begged  that  I  would  excuse  her  finishing  the  note 
on  which  she  was  engaged,  because  she  wished  to  get 
it  into  the  post-office  before  the  mail  closed.  I  sat 
down  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  and  she  finished 
her  note,  after  which  she  went  out  to  give  it  to  a 
servant. 

Glancing  about  me,  I  saw  the  shadrach.     It  was 


182  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH 

partly  under  a  litter  of  papers,  instead  of  lying  on 
them.  I  took  it  up,  and  was  looking  at  it  when  Mil 
dred  returned.  She  sat  down  and  asked  me  if  I  had 
heard  of  the  changes  that  were  to  be  made  in  the 
time-table  of  the  railroad.  We  talked  a  little  on  the 
subject,  and  then  I  spoke  of  the  shadracli,  saying 
carelessly  that  it  might  be  interesting  to  analyze  the 
bit  of  metal;  there  was  a  little  knob  which  might  be 
filed  off  without  injuring  it  in  the  least. 

"  You  may  take  it, "  she  said,  "  and  make  what  ex 
periments  you  please.  I  do  not  use  it  much;  it  is 
unnecessarily  heavy  for  a  paper-weight." 

From  her  tone  I  might  have  supposed  that  she  had 
forgotten  that  I  had  given  it  to  her.  I  told  her  that 
I  would  be  very  glad  to  borrow  the  paper-weight  for 
a  time,  and,  putting  it  into  my  pocket,  I  went  away, 
leaving  her  arranging  her  disordered  papers  on  the 
table,  and  giving  quite  as  much  regard  to  this  occu 
pation  as  she  had  given  to  my  little  visit. 

I  could  not  feel  sure  that  the  absence  of  the  sha- 
drach  would  cause  any  diminution  in  the  coolness  of 
her  feelings  toward  me,  but  there  was  reason  to 
believe  that  it  would  prevent  them  from  growing 
cooler.  If  she  should  keep  that  shadracli  she  might 
in  time  grow  to  hate  me.  I  was  very  glad  that  I  had 
taken  it  from  her. 

My  mind  easier  on  this  subject,  my  heart  turned 
more  freely  toward  Janet,  and,  going  to  her  house, 
the  next  day  I  was  delighted  to  find  her  alone.  She 
was  as  lovely  as  ever,  and  as  cordial,  but  she  was 
flushed  and  evidently  annoyed. 

"I  am  in  a  bad  humor  to-day,"  she  said,  "and  I  am 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH  183 

glad  you  came  to  talk  to  me  and  quiet  me.  Dr.  Gil 
bert  promised  to  take  me  to  drive  this  afternoon,  and 
we  were  going  over  to  the  hills  where  they  find  the 
wild  rhododendron.  I  am  told  that  it  is  still  in 
blossom  up  there,  and  I  want  some  flowers  ever  so 
much —  I  am  going  to  paint  them.  And  besides,  I 
am  crazy  to  drive  with  his  new  horses ;  and  now  he 
sends  me  a  note  to  say  that  he  is  engaged." 

This  communication  shocked  me,  and  I  began  to 
talk  to  her  about  Dr.  Gilbert.  I  soon  found  that  sev 
eral  times  she  had  been  driving  with  this  handsome 
young  physician,  but  never,  she  said,  behind  his  new 
horses,  nor  to  the  rhododendron  hills. 

Dr.  Hector  Gilbert  was  a  fine  young  fellow,  begin 
ning  practice  in  town,  and  one  of  my  favorite  associ 
ates.  I  had  never  thought  of  him  in  connection  with 
Janet,  but  I  could  now  see  that  he  might  make  a  most 
dangerous  rival.  When  a  young  and  talented  doctor, 
enthusiastic  in  his  studies,  and  earnestly  desirous  of 
establishing  a  practice,  and  who,  if  his  time  were  not 
fully  occupied,  would  naturally  wish  that  the  neigh 
bors  would  think  that  such  were  the  case,  deliberately 
devotes  some  hours  on  I  know  not  how  many  days  to 
driving  a  young  lady  into  the  surrounding  country,  it 
may  be  supposed  that  he  is  really  in  love  with  her. 
Moreover,  judging  from  Janet's  present  mood,  this 
doctor's  attentions  were  not  without  encouragement. 

I  went  home;  I  considered  the  state  of  affairs;  I 
ran  my  fingers  through  my  hair;  I  gazed  steadfastly 
upon  the  floor.  Suddenly  I  rose.  I  had  had  an 
inspiration;  I  would  give  the  shadrach  to  Dr.  Gil 
bert. 


184  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH 

I  went  immediately  to  the  doctor's  office,  and  found 
him  there.  He  too  was  not  in  a  very  good  humor. 

"I  have  had  two  old  ladies  here  nearly  all  the 
afternoon,  and  they  have  bored  me  to  death,"  he  said. 
"  I  could  not  get  rid  of  them  because  I  found  they  had 
made  an  appointment  with  each  other  to  visit  me  to 
day  and  talk  over  a  hospital  plan  which  I  proposed 
some  time  ago  and  which  is  really  very  important  to 
me,  but  I  wish  they  had  chosen  some  other  time  to 
come  here.  What  is  that  thing?  " 

"  That  is  a  bit  of  shadrach, "  I  said,  "  made  into  a 
paper-weight."  And  then  I  proceeded  to  explain 
what  shadrach  is,  and  what  peculiar  properties  it  must 
possess  to  resist  the  power  of  heat,  which  melts  other 
metal  apparently  of  the  same  class ;  and  I  added  that 
I  thought  it  might  be  interesting  to  analyze  a  bit  of  it 
and  discover  what  fire-proof  constituents  it  possessed. 

"  I  should  like  to  do  that, "  said  the  doctor,  atten 
tively  turning  over  the  shadrach  in  his  hand.  "  Can 
I  take  off  a  piece  of  it?  " 

"I  will  give  it  to  you,"  said  I,  "and  you  can  make 
what  use  of  it  you  please.  If  you  do  analyze  it,  I 
shall  be  very  glad  indeed  to  hear  the  results  of  your 
investigations." 

The  doctor  demurred  a  little  at  taking  the  paper 
weight  with  such  a  pretty  silver  ring  around  it,  but  I 
assured  him  that  the  cost  of  the  whole  affair  was  tri 
fling,  and  I  should  be  gratified  if  he  would  take  it. 
He  accepted  the  gift,  and  was  thanking  me?  when  a 
patient  arrived,  and  I  departed. 

I  really  had  no  right  to  give  away  this  paper 
weight,  which,  in  fact,  belonged  to  Mildred,  but  there 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH  185 

are  times  when  a  man  must  keep  his  eyes  on  the  chief 
good,  and  not  think  too  much  about  other  things. 
Besides,  it  was  evident  that  Mildred  did  not  care  in 
the  least  for  the  bit  of  metal,  and  she  had  virtually 
given  it  to  me. 

There  was  another  point  which  I  took  into  consid 
eration.  It  might  be  that  the  shadrach  might  sim 
ply  cool  Dr.  Gilbert's  feelings  toward  me,  and  that 
would  be  neither  pleasant  nor  advantageous.  If  I 
could  have  managed  matters  so  that  Janet  could  have 
given  it  to  him,  it  would  have  been  all  right.  But 
now  all  that  I  could  do  was  to  wait  and  see  what 
would  happen.  If  only  the  thing  would  cool  the  doc 
tor  in  a  general  way,  that  would  help.  He  might 
then  give  more  thought  to  his  practice  and  his  hospi 
tal  ladies,  and  let  other  people  take  Janet  driving. 

About  a  week  after  this  I  met  the  doctor;  he  seemed 
in  a  hurry,  but  I  stopped  him.  I  had  a  curiosity  to 
know  if  he  had  analyzed  the  shadrach,  and  asked  him 
about  it. 

"No,"  said  he;  "I  haven't  done  it.  I  haven't  had 
time.  I  knocked  off  a  piece  of  it,  and  I  will  attend 
to  it  when  I  get  a  chance.  Good  day." 

Of  course  if  the  man  was  busy,  he  could  not  be  ex 
pected  to  give  his  mind  to  a  trifling  matter  of  that 
sort,  but  I  thought  he  need  not  have  been  so  curt 
about  it.  I  stood  gazing  after  him  as  he  walked 
rapidly  down  the  street.  Before  I  resumed  my  walk 
I  saw  him  enter  the  Clinton  house.  Things  were  not 
going  on  well.  The  shadrach  had  not  cooled  Dr.  Gil 
bert's  feelings  toward  Janet. 

But  because  the  doctor  was  still  warm  in  his  atten- 


186  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH 

tions  to  the  girl  I  loved,  I  would  not  in  the  least  relax 
my  attentions  to  her.  I  visited  her  as  often  as  I 
could  find  an  excuse  to  do  so.  There  was  generally 
some  one  else  there,  but  Janet's  disposition  was  of 
such  gracious  expansiveness  that  each  one  felt  obliged 
to  be  satisfied  with  what  he  got,  much  as  he  may  have 
wished  for  something  different. 

But  one  morning  Janet  surprised  me.  I  met  her  at 
Mildred's  house,  where  I  had  gone  to  borrow  a  book 
of  reference.  Although  I  had  urged  her  not  to  put 
herself  to  so  much  trouble,  Mildred  was  standing  on 
a  little  ladder  looking  for  the  book,  because,  she  said, 
she  knew  exactly  what  I  wanted,  and  she  was  sure 
she  could  find  the  proper  volume  better  than  I  could. 
Janet  had  been  sitting  in  a  window-seat,  reading,  but 
when  I  came  in  she  put  down  her  book  and  devoted 
herself  to  conversation  with  me.  I  was  a  little  sorry 
for  this,  because  Mildred  was  very  kindly  engaged  in 
doing  me  a  service,  and  I  really  wanted  to  talk  to  her 
about  the  book  she  was  looking  for.  Mildred  showed 
so  much  of  her  old  manner  this  morning  that  I  would 
have  been  very  sorry  to  have  her  think  that  I  did  not 
appreciate  her  returning  interest  in  me.  Therefore, 
while  under  other  circumstances  I  would  have  been 
delighted  to  talk  to  Janet,  I  did  not  wish  to  give  her 
so  much  of  my  attention  then.  But  Janet  Clinton 
was  a  girl  who  insisted  on  people  attending  to  her 
when  she  wished  them  to  do  so,  and,  having  stepped 
through  an  open  door  into  the  garden,  she  presently 
called  me  to  her.  Of  course  I  had  to  go. 

"  I  will  not  keep  you  a  minute  from  your  fellow- 
student,"  she  said,  "but  I  want  to  ask  a  favor  of  you." 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH  187 

And  into  her  dark,  uplifted  eyes  there  came  a  look 
of  tender  trustfulness  clearer  than  any  I  had  yet  seen 
there.  "  Don't  you  want  to  drive  me  to  the  rhododen 
dron  hills?  "  she  said.  "  I  suppose  the  flowers  are  all 
gone  by  this  time,  but  I  have  never  been  there,  and  I 
should  like  ever  so  much  to  go." 

I  could  not  help  remarking  that  I  thought  Dr. 
Gilbert  was  going  to  take  her  there. 

"  Dr.  Gilbert,  indeed ! "  she  said  with  a  little 
laugh.  "He  promised  once,  and  didn't  come,  and 
the  next  day  he  planned  for  it  it  rained.  I  don't  think 
doctors  make  very  good  escorts,  anyway,  for  you  can't 
tell  who  is  going  to  be  sick  just  as  you  are  about 
to  start  on  a  trip.  Besides,  there  is  no  knowing  how 
much  botany  I  should  have  to  hear,  and  when  I  go 
on  a  pleasure-drive  I  don't  care  very  much  about 
studying  things.  But  of  course  I  don't  want  to 
trouble  you." 

"  Trouble !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  It  will  give  me  the 
greatest  delight  to  take  you  that  drive  or  any  other, 
and  at  whatever  time  you  please." 

"You  are  always  so  good  and  kind,"  she  said,  with 
her  dark  eyes  again  upraised.  "And  now  let  us  go 
in  and  see  if  Mildred  has  found  the  book." 

I  spoke  the  truth  when  I  said  that  Janet's  proposi 
tion  delighted  me.  To  take  a  long  drive  with  that 
charming  girl,  and  at  the  same  time  to  feel  that  she 
had  chosen  me  as  her  companion,  was  a  greater  joy 
than  I  had  yet  had  reason  to  expect;  but  it  would 
have  been  a  more  satisfying  joy  if  she  had  asked  me 
in  her  own  house  and  not  in  Mildred's;  if  she  had  not 
allowed  the  love  which  I  hoped  was  growing  up 


188  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH 

between  her  and  me  to  interfere  with  the  revival  of 
the  old  friendship  between  Mildred  and  me. 

But  when  we  returned  to  the  library  Mildred  was 
sitting  at  a  table  with  a  book  before  her,  opened  at 
the  passage  I  wanted. 

"I  have  just  found  it,"  she  said  with  a  smile. 
"  Draw  up  a  chair,  and  we  will  look  over  these  maps 
together.  I  want  you  to  show  me  how  he  travelled 
when  he  left  his  ship." 

"  Well,  if  you  two  are  going  to  the  pole,"  said  Janet, 
with  her  prettiest  smile,  "  I  will  go  back  to  my  novel." 

She  did  not  seem  in  the  least  to  object  to  my  geo 
graphical  researches  with  Mildred,  and  if  the  latter 
had  even  noticed  my  willingness  to  desert  her  at  the 
call  of  Janet,  she  did  not  show  it.  Apparently  she 
was  as  much  a  good  comrade  as  she  had  ever  been. 
This  state  of  things  was  gratifying  in  the  highest 
degree.  If  I  could  be  loved  by  Janet  and  still  keep 
Mildred  as  my  friend,  what  greater  earthly  joys  could 
I  ask? 

The  drive  with  Janet  was  postponed  by  wet  weather. 
Day  after  day  it  rained,  or  the  skies  were  heavy,  and 
we  both  agreed  that  it  must  be  in  the  bright  sunshine 
that  we  would  make  this  excursion.  When  we  should 
make  it,  and  should  be  alone  together  on  the  rho 
dodendron  hill,  I  intended  to  open  my  soul  to  Janet. 

It  may  seem  strange  to  others,  and  at  the  time  it 
also  seemed  strange  to  me,  but  there  was  another 
reason  besides  the  rainy  weather  which  prevented  my 
declaration  of  love  to  Janet.  This  was  a  certain 
nervous  anxiety  in  regard  to  my  friendship  for  Mil 
dred.  I  did  not  in  the  least  waver  in  my  intention  to 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH  189 

use  the  best  endeavors  to  make  the  one  my  wife,  but 
at  the  same  time  I  was  oppressed  by  a  certain  alarm 
that  in  carrying  out  this  project  I  might  act  in  such  a 
way  as  to  wound  the  feelings  of  the  other. 

This  disposition  to  consider  the  feelings  of  Mildred 
became  so  strong  that  I  began  to  think  that  my  own 
sentiments  were  in  need  of  control.  It  was  not  right 
that  while  making  love  to  one  woman  I  should  give 
so  much  consideration  to  my  relations  with  another. 
The  idea  struck  me  that  in  a  measure  I  had  shared  the 
fate  of  those  who  had  thrown  the  Hebrew  youths  into 
the  fiery  furnace.  My  heart  had  not  been  consumed 
by  the  flames,  but  in  throwing  the  shadrach  into  what 
I  supposed  were  Mildred's  affections  it  was  quite 
possible  that  I  had  been  singed  by  them.  At  any  rate 
my  conscience  told  me  that  under  the  circumstances 
my  sentiments  toward  Mildred  were  too  warm;  in 
honestly  making  love  to  Janet  I  ought  to  forget  them 
entirely. 

It  might  have  been  a  good  thing,  I  told  myself,  if  I 
had  not  given  away  the  shadrach,  but  kept  it  as  a  gift 
from  Mildred.  Very  soon  after  I  reached  this  con 
clusion  it  became  evident  to  me  that  Mildred  -was 
again  cooling  in  my  direction  as  rapidly  as  the  mercury 
falls  after  sunset  on  a  September  day.  This  discovery 
did  not  make  my  mercury  fall ;  in  fact,  it  brought  it 
for  a  time  nearly  to  the  boiling-point.  I  could  not 
imagine  what  had  happened.  I  almost  neglected 
Janet,  so  anxious  was  I  to  know  what  had  made  this 
change  in  Mildred. 

Weeks  passed  on,  and  I  discovered  nothing,  except 
that  Mildred  had  now  become  more  than  indifferent 


190  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADEACH 

to  me.  She  allowed  me  to  see  that  my  companionship 
did  not  give  her  pleasure. 

Janet  had  her  drive  to  the  rhododendron  hills,  but 
she  took  it  with  Dr.  Gilbert  and  not  with  me.  When 
I  heard  of  this  it  pained  me,  though  I  could  not  help 
admitting  that  I  deserved  the  punishment;  but  my 
surprise  was  almost  as  great  as  my  pain,  for  Janet 
had  recently  given  me  reason  to  believe  that  she  had 
a  very  small  opinion  of  the  young  doctor.  In  fact, 
she  had  criticised  him  so  severely  that  I  had  been 
obliged  to  speak  in  his  defence.  I  now  found  myself 
in  a  most  doleful  quandary,  and  there  was  only  one 
thing  of  which  I  could  be  certain  —  I  needed  cooling 
toward  Mildred  if  I  still  allowed  myself  to  hope  to 
marry  Janet. 

One  afternoon  I  was  talking  to  Mr.  Bronce  in  his 
library,  when,  glancing  toward  the  table  used  by  his 
daughter  for  writing  purposes,  I  was  astounded  to  see, 
lying  on  a  little  pile  of  letters,  the  Christmas  sha- 
drach.  As  soon  as  I  could  get  an  opportunity  I  took  it 
in  my  hand  and  eagerly  examined  it.  I  had  not  been 
mistaken.  It  was  the  paper-weight  I  had  given 
Mildred.  There  was  the  silver  band  around  it,  and 
there  was  the  place  where  a  little  piece  had  been 
knocked  off  by  the  doctor.  Mildred  was  not  at  home, 
but  I  determined  that  I  would  wait  and  see  her.  I 
would  dine  with  the  Bronces;  I  would  spend  the 
evening;  I  would  stay  all  night;  I  would  not  leave 
the  house  until  I  had  had  this  mystery  explained. 
She  returned  in  about  half  an  hour  and  greeted  me  in 
the  somewhat  stiff  manner  she  had  adopted  of  late; 
but  when  she  noticed  my  perturbed  expression  and 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH  191 

saw  that  I  held  the  shadrach  in  my  hand,  she  took  a 
seat  by  the  table,  where  for  some  time  I  had  been 
waiting  for  her,  alone. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  ask  me  about  that  paper 
weight,"  she  remarked. 

"Indeed  I  do,"  I  replied.  "How  in  the  world  did 
you  happen  to  get  it  again?" 

"  Again?  "  she  repeated  satirically.  "  You  may  well 
say  that.  I  will  explain  it  to  you.  Some  little  time 
ago  I  called  on  Janet  Clinton,  and  on  her  writing-desk 
I  saw  that  paper-weight.  I  remembered  it  perfectly. 
It  was  the  one  you  gave  me  last  Christmas  and  after 
ward  borrowed  of  me,  saying  that  you  wanted  to 
analyze  it,  or  something  of  the  sort.  I  had  never 
used  it  very  much,  and  of  course  was  willing  that  you 
should  take  it,  and  make  experiments  with  it  if  you 
wanted  to,  but  I  must  say  that  the  sight  of  it  on  Janet 
Clinton's  desk  both  shocked  and  angered  me.  I  asked 
her  where  she  got  it,  and  she  told  me  a  gentleman  had 
given  it  to  her.  I  did  not  need  to  waste  any  words  in 
inquiring  who  this  gentleman  was,  but  I  determined 
that  she  should  not  rest  under  a  mistake  in  regard  to 
its  proper  ownership,  and  told  her  plainly  that  the 
person  who  had  given  it  to  her  had  previously  given 
it  to  me ;  that  it  was  mine,  and  he  had  no  right  to 
give  it  to  any  one  else.  'Oh,  if  that  is  the  case/  she 
exclaimed,  'take  it,  I  beg  of  you.  I  don't  care  for  it, 
and,  what  is  more,  I  don't  care  any  more  for  the  man 
who  gave  it  to  me  than  I  do  for  the  thing  itself. '  So 
I  took  it  and  brought  it  home  with  me.  NOAV  you 
know  how  I  happened  to  have  it  again." 

For  a  moment  I  made  no  answer.     Then  I  asked 


192  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH 

her  how  long  it  had  been  since  she  had  received  the 
shadrach  from  Janet  Clinton. 

"Oh,  I  don't  remember  exactly,"  she  said;  "it  was 
several  weeks  ago." 

Now  I  knew  everything;  all  the  mysteries  of  the 
past  were  revealed  to  me.  The  young  doctor,  fervid 
in  his  desire  to  please  the  woman  he  loved,  had  given 
Janet  this  novel  paper-weight.  From  that  moment 
she  had  begun  to  regard  his  attentions  with  apathy, 
and  finally  —  her  nature  was  one  which  was  apt  to  go 
to  extremes  —  to  dislike  him.  Mildred  repossessed 
herself  of  the  shadrach,  which  she  took,  not  as  a  gift 
from  Janet,  but  as  her  rightful  property,  presented  to 
her  by  me.  And  this  horrid  little  object,  probably 
with  renewed  power,  had  cooled,  almost  frozen  indeed, 
the  sentiments  of  that  dear  girl  toward  me.  Then, 
too,  had  the  spell  been  taken  from  Janet's  inclinations, 
and  she  had  gone  to  the  rhododendron  hills  with  Dr. 
Gilbert. 

One  thing  was  certain.     I  must  have  that  shadrach. 

"Mildred,"  I  exclaimed,  "will  you  not  give  me  this 
paper-weight?  Give  it  to  me  for  my  own?  " 

"What  do  you  want  to  do  with  it?"  she  asked 
sarcastically.  "Analyze  it  again?" 

"Mildred,"  said  I,  "I  did  not  give  it  to  Janet.  I 
gave  it  to  Dr.  Gilbert,  and  he  must  have  given  it  to 
her.  I  know  I  had  no  right  to  give  it  away  at  all,  but 
I  did  not  believe  that  you  would  care ;  but  now  I  beg 
that  you  will  let  me  have  it.  Let  me  have  it  for  my 
own.  I  assure  you  solemnly  I  will  never  give  it  away. 
It  has  caused  trouble  enough  already." 

"I   don't   exactly  understand  what  you  mean  by 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH  193 

trouble,"  she  said,  "but  take  it  if  you  want  it.  You 
are  perfectly  welcome."  And  picking  up  her  gloves 
and  hat  from  the  table  she  left  me. 

As  I  walked  home  my  hatred  of  the  wretched  piece 
of  metal  in  my  hand  increased  with  every  step.  I 
looked  at  it  with  disgust  when  I  went  to  bed  that 
night,  and  when  my  glance  lighted  upon  it  the  next 
morning  I  involuntarily  shrank  from  it,  as  if  it  had 
been  an  evil  thing.  Over  and  over  again  that  day  I 
asked  myself  why  I  should  keep  in  my  possession 
something  which  would  make  my  regard  for  Mildred 
grow  less  and  less ;  which  would  eventually  make  me 
care  for  her  not  at  all?  The  very  thought  of  not 
caring  for  Mildred  sent  a  pang  through  my  heart. 

My  feelings  all  prompted  me  to  rid  myself  of  what 
I  looked  upon  as  a  calamitous  talisman,  but  my  reason 
interfered.  If  I  still  wished  to  marry  Janet  it  was 
my  duty  to  welcome  indifference  to  Mildred. 

In  this  mood  I  went  out,  to  stroll,  to  think,  to 
decide;  and  that  I  might  be  ready  to  act  on  my 
decision  I  put  the  shadrach  into  my  pocket.  Without 
exactly  intending  it  I  walked  toward  the  Bronce  place, 
and  soon  found  myself  on  the  edge  of  a  pretty  pond 
which  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  garden.  Here,  in  the 
shade  of  a  tree,  there  stood  a  bench,  and  on  this  lay  a 
book,  an  ivory  paper-cutter  in  its  leaves  as  marker. 

I  knew  that  Mildred  had  left  that  book  on  the 
bench;  it  was  her  habit  to  come  to  this  place  to  read. 
As  she  had  not  taken  the  volume  with  her,  it  was 
probable  that  she  intended  soon  to  return.  But  then 
the  sad  thought  came  to  me  that  if  she  saw  me  there 
she  would  not  return.  I  picked  up  the  book ;  I  read  the 


194  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH 

pages  she  had  been  reading.  As  I  read  I  felt  that  I 
could  think  the  very  thoughts  that  she  thought  as  she 
read.  I  was  seized  with  a  yearning  to  be  with  her, 
to  read  with  her,  to  think  with  her.  Never  had  my 
soul  gone  out  to  Mildred  as  at  that  moment,  and  yet, 
heavily  dangling  in  my  pocket,  I  carried  —  I  could  not 
bear  to  think  of  it.  Seized  by  a  sudden  impulse,  I 
put  down  the  book;  I  drew  out  the  shadrach,  and, 
tearing  off  the  silver  band,  I  tossed  the  vile  bit  of 
metal  into  the  pond. 

"  There !  "  I  cried.  "  Go  out  of  my  possession,  out 
of  my  sight!  You  shall  work  no  charm  on  me.  Let 
nature  take  its  course,  and  let  things  happen  as  they 
may."  Then,  relieved  from  the  weight  on  my  heart 
and  the  weight  in  my  pocket,  I  went  home. 

Nature  did  take  its  course,  and  in  less  than  a  fort 
night  from  that  day  the  engagement  of  Janet  and  Dr. 
Gilbert  was  announced.  I  had  done  nothing  to  pre 
vent  this,  and  the  news  did  not  disturb  my  peace  of 
mind;  but  my  relations  with  Mildred  very  much  dis 
turbed  it.  I  had  hoped  that,  released  from  the  baleful 
influence  of  the  shadrach,  hex  friendly  feelings  toward 
me  would  return,  and  my  passion  for  her  had  now  grown 
so  strong  that  I  waited  and  watched,  as  a  wrecked 
mariner  waits  and  watches  for  the  sight  of  a  sail,  for 
a  sign  that  she  had  so  far  softened  toward  me  that  I 
might  dare  to  speak  to  her  of  my  love.  But  no  such 
sign  appeared. 

I  now  seldom  visited  the  Bronce  house ;  no  one  of 
that  family,  once  my  best  friends,  seemed  to  care  to 
see  me.  Evidently  Mildred's  feelings  toward  me  had 
extended  themselves  to  the  rest  of  the  household. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  EACH  195 

This  was  not  surprising,  for  her  family  had  long  been 
accustomed  to  think  as  Mildred  thought. 

One  day  I  met  Mr.  Bronce  at  the  post-office,  and, 
some  other  gentlemen  coining  up,  we  began  to  talk  of 
a  proposed  plan  to  introduce  a  system  of  water- works 
into  the  village,  an  improvement  much  desired  by 
many  of  us. 

"  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  Mr.  Bronce,  "I  am 
not  now  in  need  of  anything  of  the  sort.  Since  I  set 
up  my  steam-pump  I  have  supplied  my  house  from 
the  pond  at  the  end  of  my  garden  with  all  the  water 
we  can  possibly  want  for  every  purpose." 

"  Do  you  mean, "  asked  one  of  the  gentlemen,  "  that 
you  get  your  drinking-water  in  that  way?  " 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Bronce.  "The  basin  of 
the  pond  is  kept  as  clean  and  in  as  good  order  as 
any  reservoir  can  be,  and  the  water  comes  from  an 
excellent,  rapid-flowing  spring.  I  want  nothing 
better." 

A  chill  ran  through  me  as  I  listened.  The  sha- 
drach  was  in  that  pond.  Every  drop  of  water  which 
Mildred  drank,  which  touched  her,  was  influenced  by 
that  demoniacal  paper-weight,  which,  without  know 
ing  what  I  was  doing,  I  had  thus  bestowed  upon  the 
whole  Bronce  family. 

When  I  went  home  I  made  diligent  search  for  a 
stone  which  might  be  about  the  size  and  weight  of  the 
shadrach,  and  having  repaired  to  a  retired  spot  I 
practised  tossing  it  as  I  had  tossed  the  bit  of  metal 
into  the  pond.  In  each  instance  I  measured  the  dis 
tance  which  I  had  thrown  the  stone,  and  was  at  last 
enabled  to  make  a  very  fair  estimate  of  the  distance 


196  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH 

to  which  I  had  thrown  the   shadrach  when  I  had 
buried  it  under  the  waters  of  the  pond. 

That  night  there  was  a  half-moon,  and  between 
eleven  and  twelve  o'clock,  when  everybody  in  our 
village  might  be  supposed  to  be  in  bed  and  asleep,  I 
made  my  way  over  the  fields  to  the  back  of  the  Bronce 
place,  taking  with  me  a  long  fish-cord  with  a  knot 
in  it,  showing  the  average  distance  to  which  I  had 
thrown  the  practice  stone.  When  I  reached  the  pond 
I  stood  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  place  by  the  bench 
from  which  I  had  hurled  the  shadrach,  and  to  this 
spot  I  pegged  one  end  of  the  cord.  I  was  attired  in 
an  old  tennis  suit,  and,  having  removed  my  shoes  and 
stockings,  I  entered  the  water,  holding  the  roll  of  cord 
in  my  hand.  This  I  slowly  unwound  as  I  advanced 
toward  the  middle  of  the  pond,  and  when  I  reached 
the  knot  I  stopped,  with  the  water  above  my  waist. 

I  had  found  the  bottom  of  the  pond  very  smooth, 
and  free  from  weeds  and  mud,  and  I  now  began  feel 
ing  about  with  my  bare  feet,  as  I  moved  from  side  to 
side,  describing  a  small  arc;  but  I  discovered  nothing 
more  than  an  occasional  pebble  no  larger  than  a  wal 
nut. 

Letting  out  some  more  of  the  cord,  I  advanced  a 
little  farther  into  the  centre  of  the  pond,  and  slowly 
described  another  arc.  The  water  was  now  nearly 
up  to  my  armpits,  but  it  was  not  cold,  though  if  it 
had  been  I  do  not  think  I  should  have  minded  it  in 
the  ardor  of  my  search.  Suddenly  I  put  my  foot  on 
something  hard  and  as  big  as  my  fist,  but  in  an  in 
stant  it  moved  away  from  under  my  foot;  it  must 
have  been  a  turtle.  This  occurrence  made  me  shiver 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH  197 

a  little,  but  I  did  not  swerve  from  my  purpose,  and, 
loosing  the  string  a  little  more,  I  went  farther  into 
the  pond.  The  water  was  now  nearly  up  to  my  chin, 
and  there  was  something  weird,  mystical,  and  awe- 
inspiring  in  standing  thus  in  the  depths  of  this  silent 
water,  my  eyes  so  near  its  gently  rippling  surface, 
fantastically  lighted  by  the  setting  moon,  and  ten 
anted  by  nobody  knew  what  cold  and  slippery  crea 
tures.  But  from  side  to  side  I  slowly  moved,  reaching 
out  with  my  feet  in  every  direction,  hoping  to  touch 
the  thing  for  which  I  sought. 

Suddenly  I  set  my  right  foot  upon  something  hard 
and  irregular.  Nervously  I  felt  it  with  my  toes.  I 
patted  it  with  my  bare  sole.  It  was  as  big  as  the 
shadrach!  It  felt  like  the  shadrach.  In  a  few 
moments  I  was  almost  convinced  that  the  direful 
paper-weight  was  beneath  my  foot. 

Closing  my  eyes,  and  holding  my  breath,  I  stooped 
down  into  the  water,  and  groped  on  the  bottom  with 
my  hands.     In  some  way  I  had  moved  while  stoop 
ing,  and  at  first  I  could  find  nothing.     A  sensation 
of  dread  came  over  me  as  I  felt  myself  in  the  midst 
of  the  dark  solemn  water,  —  around  me,  above  me, 
everywhere,  —  almost  suffocated,  and  apparently  de 
serted  even  by  the  shadrach.     But  just  as  I  felt  that 
I  could  hold  my  breath  no  longer  my  fingers  touched 
the  thing  that  had  been  under  my  foot,  and,  clutching 
it,  I  rose  and  thrust  my  head  out  of  the  water.     I 
could  do  nothing  until  I  had  taken  two  or  three  long 
breaths;  then,  holding  up  the  object  in  my  hand  to 
the  light  of  the  expiring  moon,  I  saw  that  it  was  like 
the  shadrach;  so  like,  indeed,  that  I  felt  that  it  must 
be  it. 


198  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH 

Turning,  I  made  my  way  out  of  the  water  as  rapidly 
as  possible,  and,  dropping  on  my  knees  on  the  ground, 
I  tremblingly  lighted  the  lantern  which  I  had  left  011 
the  bench,  and  turned  its  light  on  the  thing  I  had 
found.  There  must  be  no  mistake;  if  this  was  not 
the  shadrach  I  would  go  in  again.  But  there  was  no 
necessity  for  re-entering  the  pond;  it  was  the  shadrach. 

With  the  extinguished  lantern  in  one  hand  and  the 
lump  of  mineral  evil  in  the  other,  I  hurried  home. 
My  wet  clothes  were  sticky  and  chilly  in  the  night 
air.  Several  times  in  my  haste  I  stumbled  over  clods 
and  briers,  and  my  shoes,  which  I  had  not  taken  time 
to  tie,  flopped  up  and  down  as  I  ran.  But  I  cared  for 
none  of  these  discomforts ;  the  shadrach  was  in  my 
power. 

Crossing  a  wide  field  I  heard,  not  far  away,  the 
tramping  of  hoofs,  as  of  a  horseman  approaching  at 
full  speed.  I  stopped  and  looked  in  the  direction  of 
the  sound.  My  eyes  had  now  become  so  accustomed 
to  the  dim  light  that  I  could  distinguish  objects  some 
what  plainly,  and  I  quickly  perceived  that  the  animal 
that  was  galloping  toward  me  was  a  bull.  I  well 
knew  what  bull  it  was;  this  was  Squire  Starling's 
pasture-field,  and  that  was  his  great  Alderney  bull, 
Ramping  Sir  John  of  Ramapo  II. 

I  was  well  acquainted  with  that  bull,  renowned 
throughout  the  neighborhood  for  his  savage  temper 
and  his  noble  pedigree  —  son  of  Ramping  Sir  John 
of  Rampo  I.,  whose  sire  was  the  Great  Rodolphin, 
son  of  Prince  Maximus  of  Granby,  one  of  whose 
daughters  averaged  eighteen  pounds  of  butter  a  week, 
and  who,  himself,  had  killed  two  men. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH  199 

The  bull,  who  had  not  perceived  me  when  I  crossed 
the  field  before,  for  I  had  then  made  my  way  with  as 
little  noise  as  possible,  was  now  bent  on  punishing 
my  intrusion  upon  his  domains,  and  bellowed  as  he 
came  on.  I  was  in  a  position  of  great  danger.  With 
my  flopping  shoes  it  was  impossible  to  escape  by 
flight;  I  must  stand  and  defend  myself.  I  turned 
and  faced  the  furious  creature,  who  was  not  twenty 
feet  distant,  and  then,  with  all  my  strength,  I  hurled 
the  shadrach,  which  I  held  in  my  right  hand,  directly 
at  his  shaggy  forehead.  My  ability  to  project  a  mis 
sile  was  considerable,  for  I  had  held,  with  credit,  the 
position  of  pitcher  in  a  base-ball  nine,  and  as  the 
shadrach  struck  the  bull's  head  with  a  great  thud,  he 
stopped  as  if  he  had  suddenly  run  against  a  wall. 

I  do  not  know  that  actual  and  violent  contact  with 
the  physical  organism  of  a  recipient  accelerates  the 
influence  of  a  shadrach  upon  the  mental  organism  of 
said  recipient,  but  I  do  know  that  the  contact  of  my 
projectile  with  that  bull's  skull  instantly  cooled  the 
animal's  fury.  For  a  few  moments  he  stood  and 
looked  at  me,  and  then  his  interest  in  me  as  a  man 
and  trespasser  appeared  to  fade  away,  and,  moving 
slowly  from  me,  Ramping  Sir  John  of  Ramapo  II. 
began  to  crop  the  grass. 

I  did  not  stop  to  look  for  the  shadrach;  I  consid 
ered  it  safely  disposed  of.  So  long  as  Squire  Star 
ling  used  that  field  for  a  pasture,  connoisseurs  in 
mineral  fragments  would  not  be  apt  to  wander 
through  it,  and  when  it  should  be  ploughed,  the  sha 
drach,  to  ordinary  eyes  no  more  than  a  common  stone, 
would  be  buried  beneath  the  sod.  I  awoke  the  next 


200  THE  CHRISTMAS  SHAD  RAG II 

morning  refreshed  and  happy,  and  none  the  worse 
for  my  wet  walk. 

"Now,"  I  said  to  myself,  "nature  shall  truly  have 
her  own  way.  If  the  uncanny  comes  into  my  life  and 
that  of  those  I  love,  it  shall  not  be  brought  in  by  me." 

About  a  week  after  this  I  dined  Avith  the  Bronce 
family.  They  were  very  cordial,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  to  be  sitting 
at  their  table.  After  dinner  Mildred  and  I  walked 
together  in  the  garden.  It  was  a  charming  evening, 
and  we  sat  down  on  the  bench  by  the  edge  of  the 
pond.  I  spoke  to  her  of  some  passages  in  the  book  I 
had  once  seen  there. 

"  Oh,  have  you  read  that?  "  she  asked  with  interest. 

"I  have  seen  only  two  pages  of  it,"  I  said,  "and 
those  I  read  in  the  volume  you  left  on  this  bench, 
with  a  paper-cutter  in  it  for  a  marker.  I  long  to  read 
more  and  talk  with  you  of  what  I  have  read." 

"Why,  then,  didn't  you  wait?  You  might  have 
known  that  I  would  come  back." 

I  did  not  tell  her  that  I  knew  that  because  I  was 
there  she  would  not  have  come.  But  before  I  left  the 
bench  I  discovered  that  hereafter,  wherever  I  might 
be,  she  was  willing  to  come  and  to  stay. 

Early  in  the  next  spring  Mildred  and  I  were  married, 
and  on  our  wedding  trip  we  passed  through  a  mining 
district  in  the  mountains.  Here  we  visited  one  of 
the  great  ironworks,  and  were  both  much  interested 
in  witnessing  the  wonderful  power  of  man,  air,  and 
fire  over  the  stubborn  king  of  metals. 

"What  is  this  substance?"  asked  Mildred  of  one 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SHADRACH  201 

of  the  officials  who  was  conducting  us  through  the 
works. 

"That/'  said  the  man,  "is  what  we  call  shad  —  " 

"My  dear,"  I  cried,  "we  must  hurry  away  this 
instant  or  we  shall  lose  the  train.  Come;  quick; 
there  is  not  a  moment  for  delay."  And  with  a  word 
of  thanks  to  the  guide  I  seized  her  hand  and  led  her, 
almost  running,  into  the  open  air. 

Mildred  was  amazed. 

"Never  before,"  she  exclaimed,  "have  I  seen  you 
in  such  a  hurry.  I  thought  the  train  we  decided  to 
take  did  not  leave  for  at  least  an  hour." 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind, "  I  said,  "  and  think  it 
will  be  a  great  deal  better  for  us  to  take  the  one 
which  leaves  in  ten  minutes." 


THE  REVEREND   EZEKIEL  CRUMP 


IT  was  one  o'clock  on  a  bright  October  day,  and  Mr. 
Nathan  Kinkle  had  just  sat  down  to  dinner,  with 
Mrs.  Nicely  Lent  on  the  other  side  of  the  table.  The 
day  was  warm  for  the  season,  and  Mr.  Kinkle,  having 
been  very  busy  since  early  morning,  had  a  good 
appetite.  But  he  had  barely  made  one  deep  cut  in 
the  leg  of  mutton  before  him,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  a  boy  came  in  with  an  old  straw  hat  in  his  hand. 
He  hesitated  for  a  moment  as  if  he  thought  he  should 
make  some  apology  for  breaking  in  upon  the  sanctity 
of  the  dinner  hour,  and  then  he  said :  — 

"  I've  just  come  to  tell  you  that  I  think  the  Kev'rend 
Ezekiel  Crump  is  dyin'.  He's  all  doubled  up." 

"  Gracious !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Einkle,  suddenly  push 
ing  back  his  chair,  "I  must  go  out  this  minute!  It's 
the  heat.  I  didn't  count  on  it's  bein'  so  extra  warm 
to-day."  And  with  this,  he  clapped  on  his  hat  and 
left  the  house. 

" Oh  dear!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lent  as  she  gazed  at 
the  table  which  she  had  arranged  with  so  much  care. 
"  I  suppose  I  might  as  well  put  these  things  by  the 
fire  to  keep  'em  warm.  There's  no  knowin'  when 
he'll  be  back.  I  wish  that  boy  Joe  had  kept  away 

202 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL  CRUMP  203 

until  dinner  was  over.  But  I  suppose  it  couldn't  be 
helped.  It  would  never  do  to  let  the  Eeverend 
Ezekiel  Crump  die." 

Nathan  Einkle  was  a  florist,  and  the  Eeverend 
Ezekiel  Crump  was  a  new  and  fine  pelargonium  which 
had  been  originated  by  Mr.  Einkle  himself,  and  which 
he  had  named  for  the  reverend  gentleman  who  had 
married  his  father  and  mother  and  baptized  him. 
Mr.  Einkle  had  often  said  that  this  good  man's  name 
would  be  given  to  the  finest  new  flower  he  should  ever 
grow;  and  as  he  did  not  believe  he  should  produce 
anything  better  than  this  pelargonium,  the  name  was 
given  to  it. 

Nathan  was  a  tall,  slim,  muscular  bachelor  of  about 
forty,  industrious,  and  devoted  to  his  profession,  and 
a  respected  member  of  society  in  the  country  region  in 
which  he  lived.  Mrs.  Lent,  a  well-nurtured  lady, 
whose  age  hovered  around  thirty-five,  was  the  widow  of 
Mr.  Einkle's  former  partner.  The  house  belonged  to 
Mr.  Einkle,  and  he,  with  Joshua  Lent  and  his  wife, 
had  lived  in  it  very  pleasantly  and  profitably  five  or 
six  years.  When  Joshua  died  three  years  ago  this 
autumn,  Nathan  was  not  the  man  to  turn  his  widow 
out  of  doors;  so  Mrs.  Lent,  who  now  owned  a  certain 
share  in  the  business,  remained  as  housekeeper  and 
general  domestic  manager.  And,  thus  far,  the  arrange 
ment  had  been  found  pleasant  and  profitable  to  all 
parties  concerned. 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  Mr.  Einkle  returned 
from  the  greenhouse,  and  as  Mrs.  Lent  had  seen  him 
coming,  the  dinner  was  again  on  the  table  when  he 
entered. 


204  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP 

"It  wasn't  as  bad  as  Joe  thought  it  was,"  he  said 
as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  table,  "but  it  was  bad 
enough.  I  think  I  have  been  too  careful  with  that 
plant,  a  little  too  careful.  I've  been  sparing  with  the 
water  on  it.  I  didn't  want  it  to  bloom  too  fast.  I 
wanted  the  three  sprays  I  left  on  it  to  be  absolutely 
perfect  for  the  flower  show  to-morrow,  and  I  was  so 
busy  this  morning  gettin'  the  other  things  ready  I 
didn't  look  at  the  Eev'rend  Ezekiel,  and  as  he  was  in 
a  pretty  hot  place  for  such  a  day,  and  too  dry  about 
the  roots,  he  began  to  wilt.  But  I  think  he  is  all 
right  now.  I've  given  him  a  good  soakin'  and  put 
him  in  the  shade,  and  he  began  to  brighten  up  before 
I  left  him..  I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Lent,  that  gave  me  a  real 
shock." 

"As  well  it  might,"  said  the  sympathetic  Nicely. 

That  afternoon  Mrs.  Lent  went  out  to  the  green 
houses  to  look  at  the  wonderful  new  pelargonium. 
She  found  the  reverend  gentleman  fully  restored  to 
health,  strength,  and  beauty,  and  she  felt  quite  con 
vinced  that  never  had  the  eye  of  man  rested  upon  so 
grand  arid  glorious  a  pelargonium.  And  furthermore, 
there  could  be  no  imaginable  reason  to  doubt  that  on 
the  morrow  Mr.  Einkle  would  receive  a  first  prize. 

When  Mr.  Rinkle,  with  his  lantern,  came  in  from 
the  greenhouses  that  evening,  he  told  Mrs.  Lent  that 
he  should  go  out  several  times  during  the  night  to  see 
if  everything  was  all  right;  and  that  he  should  leave 
very  early  in  the  morning  for  the  town  about  ten  miles 
away  where  the  flower  show  was  to  be  held.  "I'm 
going  to  send  Joe  off  with  one  wagon  at  daylight,  and 
then,  as  soon  as  I  can  get  off,  I  shall  follow  with  the 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  205 

other  wagon,  which  won't  be  more  than  half  full;  so 
I'm  goin?  to  stop  at  the  Widow  Sharp's  and  take  along 
the  plants  she's  got  to  show,  for  she  hasn't  any  way 
of  gettin*  them  there  herself." 

'*  Do  you  mean, "  asked  Nicely,  somewhat  anxiously, 
"that  you  are  going  before  breakfast?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Nathan;  "and  as  I've  got  to  stop 
at  the  Widow  Sharp's  anyway,  I'll  breakfast  there." 

"  And  I  suppose,  of  course,  that  you'll  take  Rev'rend 
Ezekiel  Crump  with  you?" 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  answered  Nathan.  "You  may 
be  sure  that  I'll  take  charge  of  that  plant.  That 
pelargonium  is  going  to  make  a  commotion  at  the 
show  I  can  tell  you.  I've  got  a  lot  of  young  plants  of 
it,  but  I  didn't  expect  I'd  have  one  in  bloom  this  year. 
This  one  is  a  little  spindlin',  it  is  true,  but  he  has  got 
three  sprays  of  flowers  which  are  finer  than  anybody 
has  ever  yet  seen  on  a  pelargonium  plant." 

"I  am  so  glad,"  said  Mrs.  Lent,  "that  you  are  able 
to  exhibit  it  so  much  sooner  than  you  expected  to. 
That  ought  to  be  a  good  thing  for  you." 

"I've  no  doubt  it  will  be,"  said  Nathan,  taking  up 
his  candle. 

"I'll  leave  Gottlieb  Stein  in  charge  of  the  green 
houses  to-morrow,  and  I'll  tell  him  to  come  up  to  the 
house  now  and  then  to  see  if  you  want  anything. 
He'll  come  to  work  at  seven  o'clock,  and  I'll  see 
him  before  I  go.  Goodnight." 

In  the  early  dawn  of  the  next  morning,  the  boy  Joe 
started  for  the  show  with  the  gray  mare  and  a  well- 
loaded  wagon;  and  at  seven  o'clock  Nathan  Kinkle  be 
gan  to  be  impatient  for  the  coming  of  his  chief  assistant, 


206  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP 

Gottlieb  Stein,  who  lived  about  a  mile  away.  He 
wanted  him  to  put  the  brown  horse  to  the  covered 
wagon,  in  a  back  corner  of  which  the  Reverend  Ezekiel 
Crump  was  to  travel,  carefully  protected  from  the  cool 
morning  air;  and  he  had  many  directions  to  give  his 
assistant  for  the  conduct  of  his  establishment  during 
the  day.  It  was  seldom  that  Gottlieb  was  late  in 
coming  to  his  work,  and  Nathan  was  much  annoyed 
that  he  should  happen  to  be  so  on  this  most  important 
occasion. 

After  fuming  and  fretting  for  at  least  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  principal  green 
house,  gathering  together  the  plants  he  intended  to 
take  to  the  show,  the  thought  struck  him  that  possibly 
Gottlieb  might  have  forgotten  what  was  to  be  the  great 
business  of  the  day,  and  had  gone  to  work  in  some  of 
the  other  houses.  So  he  hastily  ran  out  to  look  for 
him.  Nathan  opened  the  doors  of  two  other  green 
houses,  looked  in  and  called,  but  the  man  was  not  in 
either  of  them ;  then  he  ran  over  to  the  violet  house, 
which  was  newer  than  the  other  buildings  and  at  some 
distance  from  them.  Mr.  Kinkle  did  not  find  there 
the  man  he  wanted  to  see,  but  he  found  something  he 
did  not  want  to  see,  and  that  was  that  a  number  of  the 
violet  beds  were  very  much  in  need  of  water. 

"  Confound  it !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  Here  is  a  piece 
of  forgetfulness.  And  while  I'm  waiting  for  that 
fellow  I  might  as  well  be  freshening  up  these  beds." 
And  taking  up  a  watering-pot  he  proceeded  to  the 
cistern. 

This  reservoir,  supplied  with  rain-water  from  the 
roof,  was  simply  a  wide  .hole  in  the  central  part  of 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  207 

the  house  about  nine  feet  deep.  It  had  been  dug  in  a 
bed  of  clay,  and  the  inside  of  it  had  not  yet  been 
walled  up  or  cemented,  for  as  Mr.  Einkle  had  found 
that  its  clay  sides  and  bottom  were  impervious  to 
water,  and  it  made  a  very  good  cistern  as  it  was,  for 
the  present  he  had  postponed  finishing  it.  As  the 
cistern  was  yet  uncovered  no  pump  had  been  placed  in 
it,  and  Gottlieb  had  found  it  easy  enough  to  draw 
water  from  it  by  means  of  a  bucket  and  rope.  So 
now,  as  he  had  to  take  Gottlieb's  place,  Nathan  E  inkle 
crouched  down  to  the  edge  of  the  cistern  and  lowered 
the  bucket.  Gottlieb  Stein  was  a  heavy-footed  man, 
and  had  crouched  at  that  spot  so  often  that  the  earth 
was  a  little  depressed  and  inclined  cisternward,  and 
Mr.  Einkle' s  overshoes  being  wet  with  the  morning 
dew  were  slippery.  In  consequence,  before  the  bucket 
was  half-way  down,  Mr.  Einkle  slipped  into  the  cistern 
himself,  and  arrived  with  a  great  splash  at  the  bottom. 
Plunged  thus  suddenly  into  darkness  and  water  the 
good  gardener's  surprise  almost  took  away  his  breath. 
Fortunately,  he  came  down  in  a  standing  position,  and 
as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  command  his  senses  he  dis 
covered  that,  although  a  good  deal  jarred,  he  had  not 
been  hurt.  He  also  discovered,  to  his  great  surprise, 
that  the  water  was  very  low,  and  that  it  did  not  come 
up  to  the  top  of  the  rubber  overshoes  which  he  wore 
to  protect  the  well-blacked  boots  he  had  put  on  for 
the  flower  show.  The  season  had  been  dry,  and  but 
little  rain  had  run  into  the  cistern,  and  it  might  be 
that  the  difficulty  of  dipping  with  a  bucket  in  two  or 
three  inches  of  water  would  explain  Gottlieb's  remiss- 
ness  in  the  matter  of  watering  the  violets. 


208  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL    CRUMP 

Nathan's  first  impulse  was  to  wade  around  the  sides 
of  the  cistern  and  endeavor  to  find  some  means  of 
climbing  out.  This  was  instinctively  natural,  but 
impossible.  The  walls,  although  not  quite  perpen 
dicular,  were  smooth  and  slippery. 

Then,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  Nathan  began  to  call 
for  help,  but  after  indulging  in  this  exercise  for  some 
time  he  was  forced  to  admit  to  himself  that  it  was 
useless.  The  door  of  the  violet  house  was  shut,  and 
as  it  was  at  a  considerable  distance  from  any  other 
building,  it  was  not  at  all  likely  that  he  could  make 
anybody  hear  him  until  Gottlieb,  not  finding  his 
employer  anywhere  else,  should  come  to  that  building 
to  look  for  him. 

Nathan's  anger  more  than  filled  the  cistern.  He 
was. not  a  swearing  man,  but  if  the  dilatory  Gottlieb 
could  have  heard  the  threats  of  his  employer  and  could 
have  seen  the  clenched  fist  he  shook  in  the  air,  he 
would  probably  have  been  afraid  to  go  to  his  assis 
tance.  But  as  he  could  do  nothing  but  wait,  Nathan 
thought  he  might  wait  as  comfortably  as  possible,  so 
he  laid  hold  of  the  bucket,  and,  turning  it  bottom 
upward,  sat  down  upon  it.  He  drew  his  coat-tails  over 
his  knees,  and  as  his  feet  were  protected  by  his  over 
shoes,  he  was  ena,bled  to  sit  thus  without  getting  wet. 

It  was  not  cold  in  the  cistern  for  the  air  was  tem 
pered  by  the  greenhouse  atmosphere  above,  and  al 
though  it  was  very  damp,  Mr.  Einkle  did  not  mind 
that.  He  had  passed  so  many  years  of  his  life  in 
moist  glass  houses,  going  from  their  heat  out  into 
the  cold  and  dampness  of  the  outer  air  without  any 
change  of  clothing,  that  his  skin  had  become  tough 


THE  REVEREND  EZEK1EL   CRUMP  209 

and  hardened,  and  lie  never  thought  of  such  a  thing 
as  taking  cold.  As  he  sat  thus  and  considered  his 
misfortunes  he  was  still  very  angry,  but  he  did  not 
despair.  Even  if  Gottlieb  did  not  make  his  appear 
ance  until  eight  o'clock  it  would  be  time  enough  for 
him  to  start  with  his  flowers  for  the  show ;  and  so  he 
sat  and  sat  until,  as  his  sleep  had  been  very  much 
broken  the  night  before,  he  fell  into  a  doze.  With 
his  hands  folded  in  his  lap,  and  his  chin  on  his 
breast,  he  slept  as  he  had  often  done  during  the  night 
watches  in  his  greenhouses. 

While  Mr.  Einkle  slept  Mrs.  Nicely  Lent  was  at 
work  in  her  kitchen.  She  was  a  pleasant-looking 
woman  of  a  cheerful  temperament,  and  yet  as  she 
worked  she  heaved  a  little  sigh.  Her  breakfast  was 
over  and  she  was  preparing  the  mince  meat  for  the 
first  mince  pie  of  the  season,  and  was  doing  it  with 
great  care,  for  Mr.  Kinkle  was  fond  of  mince  pies  and 
would  gladly  welcome  this  unexpected  harbinger  of 
the  season  of  good  eating. 

Moreover,  it  was  Mrs.  Lent's  birthday,  and  she 
saw  no  better  way  of  celebrating  it  than  in  making 
something  good  for  Mr.  Kinkle.  It  was  quite  certain 
that  no  one  would  think  of  making  anything  good  for 
her.  In  no  way  was  it  a  very  joyful  anniversary, 
for  it  is  lonelier  to  be  lonely  on  one's  birthday  than 
on  any  other  day.  Even  her  little  maid  Elizabeth 
was  absent  on  a  visit  to  her  parents,  and  Gottlieb, 
whose  own  good  nature  —  even  if  Mr.  Kinkle  had  not 
told  him  to  do  so  —  should  have  prompted  him  to 
come  to  the  house  to  see  if  he  were  needed,  had  not 
made  his  appearance. 


210  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP 

"I  suppose,"  thought  Mrs.  Nicely,  "that  Mr.  Rinkle 
had  a  good  breakfast  at  Mrs.  Sharp's,  for  she  expected 
him,  and  it  may  be  —  for  she  is  quite  forward  enough 
for  that  sort  of  thing  —  that  she  has  persuaded  him  to 
take  her  to  the  flower  show."  And  here  there  came 
a  little  sigh.  "But  if  he's  done  that  he's  done  it," 
she  reflected,  "and  there's  no  help  for  it.  But  I  shall 
put  off  dinner,  and  won't  have  it  till  he  comes  home, 
and  then  he  shall  have  his  mince  pie,  nice  and  hot, 
as  he  likes  it." 

She  was  turning  over  the  mince  meat  with  a  fork, 
looking  for  such  pieces  of  suet  as  might  be  large 
enough  to  be  picked  out.  "  Mince  pies  do  not  agree 
with  him  very  well,"  she  said  to  herself,  "but  he  is 
very  fond  of  them,  and  I  will  take  out  as  much  suet 
as  I  can  and  put  in  a  little  more  brandy.  I  don't 
think  he  will  notice  it,  and  it  will  make  them  more 
wholesome." 

Her  fork  now  brought  up  a  large  raisin,  and  she 
held  it  for  a  moment,  thinking  it  might  be  better  to 
cut  it  in  half  before  putting  it  back.  Mr.  Einkle  was 
very  fond  of  raisins,  but  to  agree  with  him  they  ought 
to  be  thoroughly  cooked.  Nicely  Lent  was  a  woman 
who  had  tender  sympathies  and  pleasant  memories, 
and,  as  she  sat  with  the  raisin  still  upon  her  fork,  she 
thought  of  other  birthdays  that  had  been  so  different 
from  this.  She  did  not  mind  on  ordinary  mornings 
being  left  alone  in  the  house,  but  this  morning  it  was 
indeed  depressing  to  be  there  without  a  soul  to  speak 
to  her.  She  could  imagine  Mr.  Kinkle  in  all  the 
brightness  and  gladness  of  the  flower  show;  she  could 
hear  the  delightful  admiration  provoked  by  the  Kever- 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL  CRUMP  211 

end  Ezekiel  Crump,  in  whom  she  felt  almost  a  maternal 
pride;  and  she  thought,  with  a  pang,  that  perhaps 
the  Widow  Sharp  was  at  that  moment  making  herself 
officious  by  dilating  to  the  bystanders  upon  the  merits 
of  this  grand  pelargonium.  And  here  was  she,  sit 
ting  alone  in  her  kitchen !  As  she  thought  thus,  and 
of  her  other  birthdays,  a  large  tear  trickled  down  her 
cheek  and  dropped  upon  the  raisin. 

This  aroused  her  to  a  sense  of  the  present.  It 
would  not  do  to  put  a  raisin  that  had  been  cried  upon 
into  a  pie,  and  she  was  about  to  throw  it  away.  But 
she  hesitated;  that  tear  had  been  evoked  by  sweet 
memories  of  the  past.  It  seemed  like  a  sacrilege  to 
throw  it  away.  She  took  the  raisin  gently  from  the 
fork,  and,  going  to  the  window,  made  a  little  hole  in 
the  mould  of  a  pot  of  mignonette  which  Mr.  Eiukle 
had  given  her,  and  buried  the  raisin  therein.  It 
suited  her  to  think  that  the  little  rootlets  of  the 
mignonette  would  take  up  that  tear.  She  put  her 
nose  to  the  delicate  blossoms  of  the  plant  and  then 
she  returned  to  her  work. 

If  Mrs.  Lent  had  known  that  the  day  before  had 
been  Gottlieb  Stein's  birthday,  and  that  he  was  now 
in  bed  at  home  sleeping  off  the  effects  of  a  large  sup 
per,  which  in  honor  of  the  anniversary  had  been  given 
to  some  chosen  friends,  she  would  have  hastened  to 
the  greenhouses  to  see  if  they  needed  any  attention 
in  regard  to  warmth  or  ventilation;  and  she  would 
have  discovered  Mr.  Binkle's  sorry  plight,  and  her 
hands  would  have  borne  him  a  ladder. 

If  Mr.  Kinkle  had  known  of  Gottlieb's  birthday 
supper  and  its  consequences  he  would  not  so  fre- 


212  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP 

quently  and  with,  such  drowsy  content  have  renewed 
his  naps,  thinking  each  time  that  he  half  opened  his 
eyes  that  they  had  been  closed  but  for  a  minute  t>r 
two,  and  not  imagining  that  his  nature  was  repaying 
itself  the  several  hours  of  sleep  of  which  he  had 
deprived  it  the  night  before. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  along  a  path  which  led 
from  a  handsome  house  upon  a  hillside  half  a  mile 
away  a  young  lady  appeared  walking  briskly  toward 
the  Rinkle  greenhouses.  A  more  charming  girl  is 
seldom  seen  on  a  bright  October  morning,  or,  indeed, 
upon  any  other  morning. 

At  this  same  time  there  walked  along  the  crest  of 
the  hills  on  the  other  side  of  the  narrow  valley  in 
which  the  greenhouses  lay  a  young  man  with  a  stick 
under  his  arm,  who  had  started  out  for  a  long  country 
tramp.  But  as  he  turned  his  head  to  gaze  upon  the 
bright  autumnal  scenery  beneath  him  he  suddenly 
stopped. 

" Upon  my  word, "  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "I  believe 
that  is  Clara.  Yes,  truly,  it  is  she.  She  is  going 
down  to  Nathan  Rinkle 's  greenhouses.  What  glori 
ous  good  luck.  I  wonder  if  I  can  get  there  before 
her." 

There  was  really  no  doubt  upon  this  subject,  for 
the  young  man  ran  down  the  hill,  vaulted  over  a 
fence,  crossed  a  brook,  and,  hurrying  through  the 
Rinkle  apple  orchard,  reached  the  nearest  greenhouse 
in  a  surprisingly  short  time.  He  had  been  there  for 
nearly  five  minutes,  walking  up  and  down,  smelling 
some  flowers  without  perceiving  their  scent,  and  look 
ing  at  others  without  noticing  their  color,  when  the 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  213 

door  opened  and  the  young  lady  entered.  His  astute 
mind  had  rightly  divined  that  she  would  go  into  the 
house  first  reached  by  the  path. 

With  outstretched  hand  he  advanced  to  meet  her, 
and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  his  delight  in  doing  so. 
She  was  surprised,  and  all  the  prettier  for  that. 

"I  have  come,"  she  said,  as  she  offered  him  her 
hand,  "  to  get  this  basket  filled  with  flowers.  But  Mr. 
Kinkle  is  not  here,  I  believe." 

"No,"  said  the  young  man.  "Will  you  wait  for 
him  here,  or  shall  we  go  and  look  for  him?" 

"Oh,  I  will  go  and  look  for  him,"  she  said,  "but 
don't  let  me  trouble  you,  Mr.  Hatfield." 

"  Trouble !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  As  if  it  were  possi 
ble."  And  they  went  out  together. 

Young  Leonard  Hatfield  was  not  the  avowed  lover 
of  Miss  Knightley,  but  the  only  reason  for  this  was 
that  he  had  never  yet  had  an  opportunity  of  avowing 
his  passion  for  her.  He  had  adored  her  for  what 
seemed  to  him  a  very  long  time,  but  never  in  her 
father's  mansion  on  the  hill,  on  the  tennis-grounds, 
or  in  the  houses  of  friends,  had  he  found  the  moment 
he  had  longed  for.  Now  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  had 
come.  He  would  have  been  glad  to  open  his  heart  to 
her  in  that  quiet  greenhouse  among  the  flowers,  but 
she  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  leave  it  she  gave  him  no 
time. 

The  two  now  entered  the  next  greenhouse,  but 
they  found  no  one  there.  Leonard  was  in  favor  of 
waiting  there  until  some  one  came,  but  Clara  would 
not  agree  to  that;  she  thought  it  better  to  go  find 
some  one. 


214  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP 

They  now  went  into  the  principal  greenhouse,  and 
near  the  door  stood  a  number  of  plants  covered  with 
beautiful  blossoms,  and  prominent  among  these  was 
the  Reverend  Ezekiel  Crump. 

Clara  was  a  great  lover  of  flowers.  "What  a  per 
fectly  beautiful  pelargonium  this  is !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Oh,  if  I  could  have  one  of  those  sprays.  I  wish  I 
could  find  some  one  to  attend  to  me." 

"I  don't  think  Mr.  Kinkle  or  any  of  his  men  are 
here, "  said  Leonard,  after  walking  to  the  other  end  of 
the  house  and  calling  several  times,  "  but  here  is  some 
one  who  can  attend  to  you.  Let  me  cut  off  this  spray 
and  give  it  to  you.  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  do  it,"  and 
he  took  a  knife  from  his  pocket. 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  exclaimed  Clara,  stretching  out  her 
hand  toward  him.  "You  must  not  do  it,  I  am  sure 
that  this  is  a  rare  flower,  and  very  likely  Mr.  Einkle 
intends  to  take  it  to  the  flower  show  at  Marston, 
which  opens  to-day." 

"Oh  no,"  said  Leonard,  quite  confidently.  "He 
has  taken  his  flowers  there  long  before  this.  I  have 
no  doubt  he  had  a  lot  of  this  sort  of  pelargonium, — 
more  than  he  wanted,  and  he  left  this  one." 

Clara  was  examining  the  flower  with  great  interest. 
"  I  must  find  out  about  this,"  she  said.  "  I  never  saw 
anything  like  it.  Just  look  at  this  spray  with  five 
great  blossoms  on  it,  each  of  them  nearly  three  inches 
in  diameter !  And  what  exquisite  blending  of  crim 
son,  pink,  and  cream.  I  wonder  what  it  is  called." 
She  stooped  and  read  the  name  of  the  plant  which  was 
written  on  a  wooden  label  stuck  into  the  earth  of  the 
pot.  "  How  utterly  absurd !  "  she  exclaimed,  laugh- 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  215 

ing.  "This  perfectly  beautiful  thing  is  named  the 
Keverend  Ezekiel  Crump." 

She  laughed  again,  and  Leonard  laughed  with  her. 
But  he  did  not  intend  to  waste  his  time  in  merriment  j 
his  mind  was  bent  on  earnest  work.  Here  was  a 
chance  to  speak  which  he  must  not  lose. 

"  Miss  Knightley,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  accept  from 
me  this  new  and  most  beautiful  flower,  it  will  give  me 
a  pleasure  as  new  and  beautiful  as  —  " 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  do  it,"  she  cried.  "Don't  touch 
it,  please.  I  must  ask  Mr.  E-inkle  about  it,  or  his 
man,  if  he  isn't  here."  And,  without  further  words, 
she  turned  and  left  the  house. 

Leonard  followed  her,  disappointed  and  annoyed. 
Miss  Knightley's  abrupt  manner  showed  him  that  she 
did  not  wish  to  give  him  the  opportunity  to  speak  to 
her  of  the  new  and  beautiful  pleasure  to  which  he  had 
alluded.  But  he  did  not  intend  to  give  up  the 
attempt,  and  he  was  quickly  at  her  side. 

"There  is  only  one  other  place  they  can  be,"  she 
said,  "they  must  be  in  the  violet  house." 

Leonard  did  not  wish  to  hurry  to  the  violet  house, 
or  to  any  other  house  where  they  might  expect  to  find 
people. 

"Miss  Knightley,"  said  he,  "suppose  we  go  there 
by  this  broad  walk  which  leads  around  the  gardens. 
That  footpath  is  very  narrow,  and  may  be  wet." 

"Oh,  this  leads  straight  to  the  house,"  said  she, 
"and  that  one  goes  ever  so  far  around."  And  she 
immediately  took  the  narrow  footwalk. 

When  following  a  lady  along  a  path  wide  enough 
for  only  one,  and  bordered  by  tall  grass  and  bushes,  it 


216  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP 

is  not  often  convenient  to  propose  marriage  to  her, 
especially  if  she  be  walking  very  fast.  But  Leonard 
followed  Miss  Knightley  resolutely.  If  it  were 
necessary  he  would  walk  home  with  her. 

This  day  he  would  certainly  finish  what  he  had  be 
gun  to  say  to  her. 

"I  declare,"  said  Miss  Knightly,  when  she  had  pro 
ceeded  nearly  to  the  middle  of  the  violet  house, 
"  there  is  nobody  here.  I  certainly  expected  to  find 
some  one  in  this  place." 

"And  most  happy  am  I,"  said  Leonard,  stepping 
close  to  her,  "that  there  is  nobody  here;  for  this  gives 
me  a  chance  to  tell  you,  Clara,  that  I  love  you;  for, 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  I  have  long  loved  you, 
and  I  cannot  wait  any  longer  to  tell  you  so."  In  his 
excitement  he  took  hold  of  her  left  hand,  her  right 
being  occupied  with  her  basket. 

Mr.  Einkle  awakened  when  he  heard  the  door  of 
the  violet  house  open.  In  an  instant  he  was  sitting 
up  alert,  and  with  every  sense  at  its  sharpest.  "It 
must  be  after  eight  o'clock,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and 
that  rascal  has  just  come.  I'll  pay  him  well  for  this. 
But  I'll  wait  until  he  comes  nearer,  and  first  give  him 
a  good  fright." 

Prepared  to  give  a  howl  which  might  come  from  a 
wild  demon  of  the  depths,  Nathan  sat,  leaning  for 
ward  and  ready  to  spring  to  his  feet  when  the  mis 
creant  Gottlieb  should  be  near  enough.  But,  suddenly, 
his  mood  changed.  "  There  are  the  footsteps  of  two 
persons,"  he  thought,  "and  I  hear  the  rustling  of  a 
dress.  One  must  be  a  woman."  Then  hearing  Clara's 
exclamation  his  heart  sank.  "It  is  Miss  Knightley," 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  217 

he  said  to  himself,  "and  some  one  with  her.  Oh, 
dear  me,  I  must  not  let  them  know  I  am  here.  If 
she  should  go  home  and  tell  her  father  she  found  me 
down  a  cistern  I'd  never  hear  the  end  of  it.  He'd 
laugh  at  me  as  long  as  he  lives."  So,  crouching  down 
as  low  as  possible,  Mr.  Einkle  remained  perfectly 
quiet,  hoping  that  these  untimely  visitors  might  soon 
leave  the  house.  But  the  next  moment  he  heard 
Leonard's  avowal  of  his  love. 

"My  conscience,"  thought  Nathan,  holding  his 
breath  in  amazement.  "  It's  that  young  Hatfield  mak 
ing  love  to  her.  How  very  embarrassing.  Oh  dear! 
Oh  dear !  It  would  be  awful  if  they  knew  I  was  so 
close  to  them."  But,  in  spite  of  his  embarrassment, 
Nathan  did  not  put  his  fingers  in  his  ears.  His  heart 
had  never  beat  so  quickly ;  he  had  never  been  more 
interested. 

Leonard  continued :  "Clara,"  he  said,  speaking  ear 
nestly  and  rapidly,  "may  I  love  you?  Can  I  hope 
that  you  will  love  me!  Oh,  do  not  think  of  going 
away.  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  important 
as  what  I  am  saying  to  you." 

Clara  had  looked  toward  the  door,  but  whether  she 
contemplated  a  retreat  to  it,  or  whether  she  glanced 
through  its  glass  panes  in  the  fear  that  some  one 
might  be  approaching,  Leonard  could  not  tell;  but 
she  saw  no  one,  and  it  was  impossible  to  retreat,  so 
tightly  was  her  hand  held.  She  turned  her  head  from 
the  door,  and  bent  her  eyes  on  the  ground. 

"  Oh,  Clara !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  will  you  not  speak  to 
me?  Will  you  not  look  at  me?" 

She  did  not  speak,  but  she  looked  up  at  him.  That 
was  enough. 


218  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP 

"How  very  embarrassing/'  thought  Mr.  Einkle,  his 
ears  expanding  like  opening  calla  lilies,  and  his 
heart  beating  faster  in  his  excited  interest.  "She 
must  have  agreed,  for  they  surely  are  kissin'.  Yes, 
I  can  hear  'em,  and  most  likely  huggin'.  Mercy  on 
me!  It's  lucky  they  don't  know  I'm  here.  How 
dreadful  it  would  be  if  they  should  even  hear  me 
breathe ! "  And  as  this  thought  came  to  him  he 
pressed  his  lips  tightly  together. 

"  Oh  happy,  happy  day !  "  cried  Leonard.  "  Oh 
glorious  world!  Oh  darling  Clara  —  my  own  for 
ever." 

"  Dear  me !  Dear  me !  "  thought  Mr.  Einkle.  "  How 
warmed  up  he  is !  And  I'm  not  surprised.  I  wonder 
if  he  really  is  holdin'  her  in  his  arms.  Yes,  he  must 
be.  That  was  another  kiss." 

Some  calla  lilies  are  so  large  that  it  was  impossible 
for  Mr.  Einkle 's  ears  to  rival  their  dimensions,  but 
they  did  their  best. 

"And  you  really  are  mine  —  forever  and  always?" 
asked  the  ardent  lover. 

And  into  the  violet-perfumed  air  of  the  greenhouse 
there  was  breathed  the  one  word  "Yes." 

"There,"  thought  Mr.  Einkle,  "that  is  the  first 
thing  she  has  said.  But,  to  be  sure,  he  hasn't  given 
her  much  chance.  What!  Again  and  again!  I 
almost  wish  they  would  go  away.  This  is  getting  to 
be  very  embarrassing." 

"Come,  darling,"  said  Leonard,  "let  us  go.  And 
nothing  shall  now  prevent  my  giving  that  loveliest 
flower  to  the  loveliest  woman  on  earth.  It  shall  be 
my  first  present  to  her,  and  a  fit  one.  She  shall  carry 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  219 

home  my  love,  and  with  it  the  finest  spray  of  blos 
soms  from  the  Eeverend  Ezekiel  Crump." 

"Don't  you  do  it!  "  screamed  Mr.  Kinkle,  springing 
to  his  feet.  "Don't  you  touch  it!  I'm  going  to  take 
that  flower  to  the  show.  I  wouldn't  have  it  spoiled 
for  the  world." 

There  was  a  scream  from  Clara;  a  shout  from 
Leonard.  Then  the  young  lady  began  to  tremble, 
and  sat  down  on  the  floor.  Her  lover  assisted  her  to 
lean  back  against  one  of  the  supports  of  the  violet 
beds,  and  then,  seeing  that  she  had  not  really  fainted, 
he  sprang  to  the  open  mouth  of  the  cistern.  There, 
a  little  below  the  surface  of  the  floor,  he  saw  the  pale 
face  of  Mr.  Kinkle,  who  was  standing  on  the  bucket. 

"I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,  Mr.  Hatfield,"  said  the 
trembling  florist,  dismayed  at  what  he  had  done,  "  and 
I  vow  to  you  that  I  wouldn't  have  heard  a  word  you've 
been  say  in'  if  it  had  been  possible  for  me  to  sink  any 
deeper  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  There  is  a  ladder 
at  the  far  end  of  the  greenhouse,  and  if  you'll  put 
that  down  here,  Mr.  Hatfield,  I'll  come  up  and  tell 
you  all  about  it." 

Leonard  was  so  amazed,  so  shocked,  and  so  angry 
that  he  could  find  no  words  in  which  to  reply  to  this 
apparition  in  the  cistern,  but  he  brought  the  ladder, 
and  very  soon  the  florist  was  standing  before  him  and 
Clara,  who  had  now  risen  to  her  feet. 

"This  is  very  embarrassing,"  said  Mr.  Kinkle,  his 
hands  clasped  before  him. 

"Now  then,"  cried  Leonard,  fiercely,  "none  of  that 
nonsense.  I  got  you  out  to  hear  what  you  had  to  say 
about  this  contemptible  piece  of  business." 


220  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL  CRUMP 

Mr.  Binkle  looked  first  at  the  angry  young  man  and 
then  at  the  pale  Clara,  and  told  everything  just  as  it 
had  happened.  "You  see,"  said  he  in  conclusion,  "I 
kept  so  very  quiet,  thinkin'  to  frighten  Gottlieb,  that 
you  two  began  speakin'  in  a  way  that  might  be 
called  confidential  before  I  had  time  to  let  you  know 
there  was  some  one  else  in  the  greenhouse;  and  then 
I  didn't  like  to  speak  out  because  I  knew  it  would 
embarrass  you  so  dreadfully,  and  I  felt  at  any  mo 
ment  you  might  be  on  the  p'int  of  go  in'  away.  As 
for  me,  I  assure  you  I  never  was  so  embarrassed  since 
the  beginning  of  my  days." 

"Look  here,"  exclaimed  Leonard,  "I  want  to  know 
if  you  heard  everything  we  said?  " 

"Oh,  no,  indeed!"  replied  the  good  Nathan. 
"There  were  times  when  I  couldn't  hear  a  word. 
You  see,  I  was  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  cistern. 
But  of  course  I  couldn't  help  understandin'  the  drift 
of  the  conversation,  which  seemed  in  a  way  to  be 
token  that  you  two  were  engaged  to  be  married." 

Miss  Knightley,  whose  color  had  come  back  to  her 
face,  looked  at  Leonard;  he  looked  at  her,  and  they 
both  laughed.  Mr.  Einkle  saw  his  opportunity  and 
extended  a  hand  to  each.  "  Let  me  congratulate  you, " 
he  said;  "and  I  beg  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  that 
you  won't  mind  an  old  fellow  like  me  gettin'  by  the 
merest  accident  a  hint  of  your  engagement  before  any 
body  else.  And  you  may  trust  me  for  never  sayiii'  a 
word  to  a  livin'  soul  about  it;  as  far  as  that  goes  it 
might  have  been  one  of  them  pots  that  was  down  the 
cistern." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  Clara  was  the 

first  to  speak. 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  221 

"  It  is  dreadfully  embarrassing,  as  you  say,  Mr. 
Rinkle,  but  it  can't  be  helped  now,  and  I  am  willing 
to  forgive  you.  But  you  must  promise  not  only  not 
to  mention  our  engagement  until  we  are  ready  our 
selves  to  announce  it,  but  that  you  will  never,  never 
to  the  end  of  your  days,  mention  to  a  living  soul  that 
you  were  anywhere  near  at  the  time  it  was  made." 

"  Oh,  bless  me !  "  cried  Mr.  Einkle.  "  I'll  never  do 
that.  It  would  make  me  the  laughing  stock  of  the 
county." 

"If  I  ever  hear,"  said  Leonard,  "that  this  has 
leaked  out  I  shall  make  it  my  business  that  the  peo 
ple  in  this  neighborhood  shall  never  go  into  one  of 
your  greenhouses  without  sending  somebody  ahead  to 
see  who  is  in  the  cistern." 

"Oh.  you  need  have  no  fear  of  that,"  said  Nathan. 
"And  now  you  must  excuse  me  for  leaving  you  so 
abruptly.  I  must  hurry  off  to  the  flower  show.  I 
haven't  my  watch  with  me,  but  it  must  be  a  good 
deal  after  eight  o'clock." 

"After  eight,"  exclaimed  Leonard,  taking  out  his 
watch.  "It  is  half-past  twelve." 

Mr.  Rinkle  stood  aghast.  "  I  must  have  slept  the 
whole  morning,"  he  said,  wofully.  "And  that  set 
tles  me  at  the  flower  show.  The  prizes  were  to  be 
given  out  at  noon  to-day,  while  things  are  fresh,  and 
there  is  no  use  in  my  thinking  of  going  there  at  this 
time.  It  is  all  up  with  me  and  my  exhibition,  at 
least  the  best  part  of  it." 

An  idea  suddenly  struck  the  florist.  "  Stay  here, 
please,"  he  said,  "  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute."  And  lie 
ran  out  of  the  house. 


999 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL  CRUMP 


Iii  a  short  time  lie  returned  bearing  in  his  hand  the 
largest  spray  of  blossoms  from  the  Reverend  Ezekiel 
Crump.  "It's  no  use  lettin'  'em  stay  on  till  they're 
withered,"  he  said,  "and  as  the  plant  can't  enter  for  a 
prize  now,  I'll  let  you,  Mr.  Hatfield,  do  what  you 
wanted  to  do,  and  give  your  lady  a  flower  that  no 
other  lady  ever  had  before.  If  you  knew  how  I'd 
worked  and  waited  to  get  those  blossoms,  you'd  know 
the  value  of  them." 

This  extinguished  the  last  spark  of  resentment  in 
Leonard's  mind,  and  Mr.  Rinkle  considerately  ab 
sented  himself  during  the  presentation  of  the  flowers. 

It  was  evening;  dinner  was  over,  and  Mr.  Rinkle 
pushed  back  his  chair  with  an  air  of  great  content.  At 
his  hasty  luncheon,  which  he  ate  standing,  and  in  a 
perturbation  of  mind  quite  natural  after  what  had 
happened,  he  had  merely  stated  to  Mrs.  Lent  that 
he  had  not  gone  to  the  flower  show  because  Gottlieb 
had  not  come  to  take  charge.  But  now,  during  the 
dinner,  he  had  given  Mrs.  Lent  a  full  account  of 
his  misadventures,  alluding  to  his  rescue  from  the 
cistern  only  by  saying  that  Mr.  Hatfield  had  hap 
pened  to  come  into  the  violet  house  and  had  helped 
him  out. 

"That  was  a  wonderfully  good  mince  pie,  Mrs. 
Lent,"  he  remarked,  in  his  after-dinner  serenity. 
"There  was  never  a  better." 

"  If  I  had  only  known,"  said  Mrs.  Lent,  "that  while 
I  was  making  it  you  were  down  in  that  dreadful  hole 
how  fast  I  would  have  run  to  you." 

Mr.  Rinkle  crossed  his  legs  and  smiled.  He  was 
in  a  state  of  great  good  humor.  "  I  know  you  would, 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  22o 

Mrs.  Lent,  I  know  you  would.  But,  after  all,  per 
haps  it's  just  as  well  you  didn't  come." 

She  looked  surprised.  "Don't  you  think  I  could 
have  helped  you  out  as  well  as  anybody?" 

"  Of  course  you  could.  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that," 
said  Nathan,  walking  up  and  down  the  floor,  and  still 
smiling.  Suddenly  he  struck  his  hands  together,  and 
then  he  took  his  hat  from  its  peg.  "Mrs.  Lent,"  said 
he,  "  don't  clear  away  the  dinner  things.  I'll  be  back 
in  a  minute." 

When  he  returned  he  brought  with  him  the  second 
largest  spray  of  flowers  from  the  Reverend  Ezekiel 
Crump,  bearing  four  great  blossoms. 

"Nicely,"  said  he,  "allow  me  to  present  to  the 
loveliest  woman  on  earth,  the  loveliest  flower,  at  least 
of  the  pelargonium  family,  that  was  ever  grown  by 
man." 

Mrs.  Lent  stood  up  amazed.  Never  before  had  he 
called  her  Nicely ;  and  what  did  he  mean  by  bringing 
her  that  almost  sacred  flower?  "  I  don't  understand," 
she  gasped. 

"Nicely,"  he  said,  "may  I  love  you?  Will  you 
love  me  in  return?  Come  now,  don't  look  down  or 
think  about  doing  kitchen  work.  There  is  nothing  so 
important  as  what  I  am  saying  to  you." 

She  understood  now.  Flushing  and  trembling  she 
could  not  speak,  but  she  looked  up  at  him,  and  that 
was  enough.  As  for  Nathan,  he  forgot  nothing  of 
the  lesson  that  he  had  learned. 

It  was  an  hour  afterward.  The  room  was  in  order, 
and  the  two  were  sitting  before  the  fire.  He  had  just 
finished  giving  her  a  full  account  of  the  interview  he 


224  THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP 

had  overheard  between  Miss  Knightley  and  Mr.  Hat- 
field.  "  Of  course  I  wouldn't  have  told  you/'  he  said, 
"  so  long  as  we  were  merely  two  good  friends,  but  now 
that  we  are  the  same  as  one,  I  couldn't  help  tellin' 
you.  It's  your  right  to  know  all  I  know." 

The  widow  was  so  well  aware  of  Nathan's  desire  to 
tell  things  about  people  that  a  faint  suspicion  came 
into  her  mind  that  perhaps  he  had  proposed  to  her 
because  there  was  no  other  way  in  which  he  could 
justify  himself  in  telling  her  this  wonderful  bit  of 
news.  But  she  dismissed  the  thought  as  an  unworthy 
one. 

"After  all,"  exclaimed  the  jubilant  Nathan,  "the 
Eeverend  Ezekiel  Crump  brought  me  a  prize.  He 
brought  me  you." 

Mrs.  Lent  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  "What  had 
he  to  do  with  it?"  she  said. 

He  turned  a  beaming  face  toward  her.  "Nicely," 
said  he,  "  if  them  two  had  gone  away  without  knowing 
I  was  in  the  cistern,  and  I'd  had  to  wait  till  Gottlieb 
came  and  got  me  out,  and  that  rascal  didn't  show  him 
self  till  two  o'clock  this  afternoon,  there 'd  been  a 
fight;  and  as  he  is  a  big  fellow,  and  I'd  been  a  fiery 
mad  one,  I  wouldn't  have  been  in  a  fit  state  this  day 
to  make  love  to  anybody.  But  it  was  the  name  of  the 
Keverend  Ezekiel  Crump  that  brought  me  bouncin'  to 
my  feet  and  got  me  out  of  that  hole,  while  I  was  in  such 
a  state  of  mind  from  hear  in'  what  I  heard,  and  thinkin' 
about  what  I  imagined  that  I  was  one  tingle  of  glow  in' 
excitement  from  my  head  that  was  in  the  air  to  my 
feet  that  were  in  the  water,  and  I  kept  thinkin'  and 
thinkin'  about  it,  till  early  in  the  afternoon  I  made 


THE  REVEREND  EZEKIEL   CRUMP  225 

up  my  mind  that  as  soon  as  I  could  get  the  day's  work 
done  and  dinner  was  over,  I  wouldn't  wait  any  longer 
to  declare  my  love,  just  as  young  Hatfield  couldn't 
wait  any  longer  to  declare  his." 

"Nathan,"  said  she,  "did  hearing  those  two  talk 
put  this  disposition  into  you?" 

He  thi'ew  one  arm  over  the  back  of  her  chair.  "  No, 
indeed,  Nicely,"  he  answered,  "  it  only  brought  it  out." 

The  next  day  Mr.  Einkle  went  to  the  flower  show 
dressed  in  his  best  clothes,  and  wearing  in  his  button 
hole  the  remaining  spray  of  blossoms  from  his  new 
pelargonium.  His  brother  florists  stared  with  amaze 
ment  at  his  adornment.  "  If  you  had  brought  yester 
day  the  plant  that  bore  that  flower,"  one  of  them 
exclaimed,  "you  would  have  gained  a  first  prize." 

"Oh  I  got  prize  enough,"  said  Nathan,  with  an  air 
of  superiority  to  floricultural  distinctions,  "and  the 
Eeverend  Ezekiel  Crump  must  wait  till  next  year  for 
his  turn." 


Kortooofi 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


B 


RIEF  LIST  of  Books  of  Fiction  Published 
by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  743-745 
Broadway,  New  York. 


William  Waldorf  Astor. 

Valentino:     An  Historical  Romance.     i2mo,  $1.00.     Sforza :     A 
Story  of  Milan.      I2mo,  $1.50. 

"The  story  is  full  of  clear-cut  little  tableaux  of  medieval  Italian 
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written  a  romance  which  will  heighten  the  reputation  he  made  by 
'Valentino.'"—  The  New  York  Tribune. 

Arlo  Bates. 

A  Wheel  of  Fire.     i2mo,  paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"  The  novel  deals  with  character  rather  than  incident,  and  is  evolved 
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unlike  that  of  Hawthorne." — The  Critic. 

Hjalmar  H.  Boyesen. 

Falconberg.  Illustrated.  i2mo,  $1.50.  Gunnar.  Sq.  i2mo 
paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.25.  Tales  from  Two  Hemispheres. 
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Strugglers.  lamo,  $1.25. 

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drollery  that  are  fascinating,  and  yet  they  are  no  more  attractive  than  they 
are  strong." — The  Home  Journal. 

H.  C.  Bunner. 

The  Story  of  a  New  York  House,  Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Frost. 
i2ino,  81.25.  The  Midge.  i2mo,  paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.00. 
Zadoc  Pine,  and  Other  Stories.  i2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth 
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the  artist  both  supplement  one  another  in  this  excellent  '  Story  of  a  New 
York  House.'"—  The  New  York  Times. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST   OF    FICTION. 


Frances  Hodgson  Burnett. 

That  Lass  0'  Lown'e's.  Illustrated.  Paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $i  25. 
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William  Allen  Butler. 

Domesticus.     A  Tale  of  the  Imperial  City.      121110,  $1.25. 

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The  set,  4  vols.,  $5.00. 

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manners,  the  whole  social  atmosphere  of  a  remote  time  and  a  peculiar 
people.  A  delicious  flavor  of  humor  penetrates  his  stories." 

—  The  New  York  Tribune. 

Rebecca  Harding  Dams. 

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direct,  forcible  style  which  is  Mrs.  Davis's  distioctive  merit  as  a  producer  of 
fictioo." — Boston  Beacon. 


SCRIBNER'S   BRIEF    LIST   OF    FICTION.  3 

Richard  Harding  Davis. 

Gallegher,  and  Other  Stories.     12010,  paper,  50  cts.  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

The  ten  stories  comprising  this  volume  attest  the  appearance  of  a  new 
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Edward  Egg  lest  on. 

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public  imagination." — The  Christian  Union, 

Erckmann-Chatrian . 

The  Conscript.  Illustrated.  Waterloo.  Illustrated.  Sequel  to  The 
Conscript.  Madame  Therese.  The  Blockade  of  Phalsburg. 
Illustrated.  The  Invasion  of  France  in  1814.  Illustrated.  A 
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Harold  Frederic. 

Seth's  Brother's  Wife.  12010,  $1.25.  The  Lawton  Girl.  12010, 
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'In  the  Valley.'" — Boston  Beacon. 

James  Anthony  Fronde. 

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"  The  narrative  is  full  of  vigor,  spirit  and  dramatic  power.  It  will 
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character  with  romantic  color,  and  adventurous  incident  for  the  back 
ground." —  The  New  York  Tribune. 


4  SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION. 

Robert  Grant. 

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Bachelor.'  "  — Boston  Transcript, 

Edward  Everett  Hale. 

Philip  Nolan's  Friends,    lllust'd.   121110,  paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.50. 

"  There  is  no  question,  we  think,  that  this  is  Mr.  Hale's  completest  and 
best  novel." — The  Atlantic  Monthly. 

Marion  Harland. 

Judith.  i2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00.  Handicapped. 
i2mo,  $1.50.  With  the  Best  Intentions.  i2mo,  cloth,  $1.00; 
paper,  50  cts. 

"  Fiction  has  afforded  no  more  charming  glimpses  of  old  Virginia  life 
than  are  found  in  this  delightful  story,  with  its  quaint  pictures,  its  admir 
ably  drawn  characters,  its  wit,  and  its  frankness." 

—  The  Brooklyn  Daily   Times. 

Joel  Chandler  Harris. 

Free  Joe,  and  Other  Georgian  Sketches.        i2mo,  paper,  50  cts.; 

cloth,  $1.00. 

"  The  author's  skill  as  a  story  writer  has  never  been  more  felicitously 
illustrated  than  in  this  volume." — The  New  York  Sun. 

Augustus  Allen  Hayes. 

The  Jesuit's  Ring:     i2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00. 
"  The  conception  of  the  story  is  excellent." — The  Boston   Traveller. 

George  A.  Hibbard. 

The  Governor,  and  Other  Stories.      i2mo,  cloth,  $1.00;    paper, 

50  cts. 

"It  is  still  often  urged  that,  except  in  remote  corners,  there  is  nothing 
in  our  American  life  which  appeals  to  the  artistic  sense,  but  certainly  these 
stories  are  American  to  the  core,  and  yet  the  artistic  sense  is  strong  in  them 
throughout. " — Critic. 

E.   T.  W ' .  Hoffmann. 

Weird  Tales.     With  Portrait.     121110,  2  vols.,  $3.00. 

11  All  those  who  are  in  search  of  a  genuine  literary  sensation,  or  who 
care  for  the  marvelous  and  supernatural,  will  find  these  two  volumes  fas 
cinating  reading." —  The  Christian  Union. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST   OF    FICTION. 


Dr.  J.  G.  Holland. 

Sevenoaks.  The  Bay  Path,   Arthur  Bonnicastle.   Miss  Gilbert's 
Career.     Nicholas  Minturn;     Each,  121110,  $1.25;  the  set,  $0.25. 
Sevenoaks  and  Arthur  Bonnicastle.     Each,  paper,  soc. 

"Dr.  Holland  will  always  find  a  congenial  audience  in  the  homes  of 
culture  and  refinement.  He  does  not  affect  the  play  of  the  darker  and 
fiercer  passions,  but  delights  in  the  sweet  images  that  cluster  around  the 
domestic  hearth.  He  cherishes  a  strong  fellow-feeling  with  the  pure  and 
tranquil  life  in  the  modest  social  circles  of  the  American  people,  and  has 
thus  won  his  way  to  the  companionship  of  many  friendly  hearts." 

—  The  New  York  7^ribune. 

Thomas  A.  Janvier. 

Color  Studies,  and  a  Mexican  Campaign.  121110,  paper,  50  cts. ; 
cloth,  $1.00. 

"Piquant,  novel  and  ingenious,  these  little  stories,  with  all  their  simplicity, 
have  excited  a  wide  interest.  The  best  of  them,  'Jaune  D'Antimoine,'  is 
a  little  wonder  in  its  dramatic  effect,  its  ingenious  construction." — Critic. 

Andrew  Lang. 

The  Mark  of  Cain*     12010,  paper,  25  cts. 

"  No  one  can  deny  that  it  is  crammed  as  full  of  incident  as  it  will  hold, 
or  that  the  elaborate  plot  is  worked  out  with  most  ingenious  perspicuity." 

—  The  Saturday  Review. 

George  P.  Latbrop. 

Newport.  12010,  paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.25.  An  Echo  of  Passion. 
121110,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00.  In  the  Distance.  i2mo, 
paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"  His  novels  have  the  refinement  of  motive  which  characterize  the 
analytical  school,  but  his  manner  is  far  more  direct  and  dramatic." 

—  The  Christian  Union. 

Brander  Matthews. 

The  Secret  of  the  Sea,  and  Other  Stories.     i2mo,  paper,  50  cts.; 

cloth,  $1.00.     The  Last  Meeting.     i2mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 
"  Mr.  Matthews  is  a  man  of  wide  observation  and  of  much  familiarity 
with  the  world.     His  literary  style  is  bright  and  crisp,  with  a  peculiar 
sparkle  about  it — wit  and  humor  judiciously  mingled — which  renders  his 
pages  more  than  ordinarily  interesting." — The  Rochester  Post-Express. 

George  Moore. 

Vain  Fortune.     i2mo,  $1.00. 

<(  How  a  woman's  previous  ideas  and  actions  will  completely  change 
when  the  medium  of  a  wild,  intense  love  is  interposed,  was  never  more 
skilfully  sketched." — Boston  Times. 


6  SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST   OF    FICTION. 

Fit^-James  O'Brien . 

The  Diamond  Lens,  with  Other  Stories.     i2mo,  paper,  50  cts. 

"  These  stories  are  the  only  things  in  literature  to  be  compared  with 
Poe's  work,  and  if  they  do  not  equal  it  in  workmanship,  they  certainly  do 
not  yield  to  it  in  originality."—  The  Philadelphia  Record. 

Duffield  Osborne. 

The  Spell  of  Ashtaroth.     121110,  $1.00. 

"  It  has  a  simple  but  picturesque  plot,  and  the  story  is  told  in  a  vividly 
dramatic  way." — Chicago  Times. 

Bliss  Perry. 

The  Broughton  House.     121110,  $1.25. 

"  A  wonderfully  shrewd  and  vivid  picture  of  life  in  one  of  our  hill 
towns  in  summer." — Hartford  Post. 

Thomas  Nelson  Page. 

In  Old  Virginia.  Marse  Chan  and  Other  Stories.  lamo,  $1.25. 
On  Newfound  River*  12010,  $1.00.  Elsket,  and  Other  Stories. 
i2mo,  $1.00.  Marse  Chan.  Ills.  bySmedley.  Sq.i2mo.  $1.50. 

"Mr.  Page  enjoys  the  distinction  of  having  written  the  most  exquisite 
story  of  the  war  ('  Marse  Chan '),  which  has  yet  appeared.  His  stories 
are  beautiful  and  faithful  pictures  of  a  society  now  become  a  portion  and 
parcel  of  the  irrevocable  past." — Harper's  Magazine. 

George  I.  Putnam. 

In  Blue  Uniform.     121110,  $1.00. 

The  author  of  this  love  story,  who  is  an  ex-army  officer,  has  given  a 
very  natural  picture  of  garrison  life  in  the  Far  West,  with  strong  character 
studies,  and  a  sufficient  diversity  of  incident  to  give  movement  and  cumu 
lative  interest  to  the  tale. 

Saxe  Holm's  Stories. 

First  Series.  Second  Series.   Each,  121110,  paper,  5oc;  cloth,  $1 .00. 

"  Saxe  Holm's  characters  are  strongly  drawn,  and  she  goes  right  to  the 
heart  of  human  experience,  as  one  who  knows  the  way.  We  heartily 
commend  them  as  vigorous,  wholesome,  and  sufficiently  exciting  stories." 

—  7" he  Advance. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION.  7 

Stories  from  Scribner. 

Stories  of  New  York.  Illustrated.  From  Four  to  Six,  by  Annie 
Eliot  ;  The  Commonest  Possible  Story,  by  Bliss  Perry;  The  End  of 
the  Beginning,  by  George  A.  Hibbard  ;  A  Puritan  Ingenue,  by 
John  S.  Wood  ;  Mrs.  Manstey's  View,  by  Edith  Wharton. 

Stories  of  the  Railway:     Illustrated.     As  the  Sparks  Fly  Upward, 
by  George  A.   Hibbard;   How   I   Sent  My  Aunt  to  Baltimore,  by 
Charles  "S.    Davison  ;    Run  to  Seed,  by  Thomas  Nelson    Page ; 
Flandroe's    Mogul,   by  A.   C.    Gordon. 
///  Press:        Stories  of  the  South.  Stories  of  Italy. 

Stories  of  the  Sea;  Stories  of  the  Army. 

Illustrated.     Each,  i6mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  75  cts.;  half  calf,  $1.50. 

The   stories  in   these   attractive   little   volumes   are   among  the   most 

popular  of  those  that  have  been  published  in  ' '  Scribner's  Magazine. "   They 

are  daintily  bound,  and  fully  and  beautifully  illustrated. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

Strange    Case  of   Dr.    Jekyll    and    Mr.    Hyde,     i2mo,  paper, 

25  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00.     Kidnapped.     I2mo,  paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth, 

ill.,   $1.25.      The    Merry    Men,   and   Other  Tales  and   Fables. 

i2mo,   paper,   35    cts.;    cloth,  $1.00.      New    Arabian    Nights; 

i2mo,  paper,  30  cts.;   cloth,   $1.00.     The  Dynamiter.     i2mo, 

paper,  30  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00.     The  Black   Arrow.     111.     i2mo, 

paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00.     The  Wrong  Box.     i2mo,  paper, 

50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00.    The  Master  of  Ballantrae.    i2mo,  paper, 

50  cts.;   cloth,  ill.,  $1.25.     The   Wrecker.     i2mo,  ill.,  $1.25. 

Island  Nights'  Entertainments.     i2mo,  ill.,  $1.25. 

"Stevenson  belongs  to  the  romantic  school  of  fiction  writers.     He  is 

original  in  style,  charming,   fascinating,  and  delicious,  with  a  marvelous 

command  of  words,  and  with  a  manner  ever  delightful  and  magnetic. "_ 

— Boston   Transcript. 

Charles  Warren  Stoddard. 

South  Sea  Idyls.     i2mo,  $1.50. 

"Brimful  of  delicious  descriptions  of  South  Sea  Island  life.  Neither 
Loti  nor  Stevenson  has  expressed  from  tropical  life  the  luscious,  fruity 
delicacy,  or  the  rich  wine-like  bouquet  of  these  sketches." — Independent. 

T.  R.  Sullivan. 

Day  and    Night   Stories.     First  and  Second  Series.     Each,   i2mo, 

cloth,  $1.00  ;  paper,  50  cts.     Roses  of  Shadow.     i2mo,  $1.00. 

"Mr.    Sullivan's  style  is  at  once   easy  and  refined,   conveying   most 

happily  that  atmosphere  of  good  breeding  and  polite  society  which  is 

indispensable  to   the   novel  of  manners,   but  which   so   many  of  them 

lamentably  fail  of." — The  Nation. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION. 

Frederick  J.  Stimson  (].  S.  of  Dale). 

Guerndale.  12010,  paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.25.  The  Crime  of 
Henry  Vane.  12010,  paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.00.  The  Senti 
mental  Calendar.  111.  12010,  $1.00.  First  Harvest.  12010, 
$1.25.  The  Residuary  Legatee.  12010,  paper,  35  cts.;  cloth' 
$1.00.  In  the  Three  Zones.  12010,  $1.00. 

"  No  youog  oovelist  in  this  country  seems  better  equipped  thao  Mr. 
Stimson  is." — The  Philadelphia  Bulletin, 

Frank  R.  Stockton. 

Rudder  Grange.     12010,  paper,  60  cts.;  cloth,  $1.25;  illustrated  by 
A.  B.  Frost,  Sq.   12010,  $2.00.     The  Late  Mrs*  Null.     12010, 
paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.25.     The  Lady,  or  The   Tiger?   aod 
Other  Stones.     12010,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.25.     The  Christ 
mas  Wreck,   aod  Other  Stories.      12010,  paper,  50  cts.;    cloth, 
$1.25.    The  Bee-Man  of  Orn,  aod  pther  Fanciful  Tales.     12010, 
cloth,  $1.25.      Amos   Kilbright,  with    Other    Stories.       12010, 
paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.25.      The  Rudder  Grangers  Abroad, 
aod  Other  Stories.      12010,  paper,  50  cts  ;  cloth,  $1.25. 
upf  Mr.  Stocktoo's  stories  what  is  there  to  say,  but  that  they  are  an 
unmixed  blessing  and  delight?     He  is  surely  one  of  the  most  inventive  of 
talents,  discovering  not  only  a  new  kind  in  humor  and  fancy,  but  accumu 
lating  an  inexhaustible  wealth  of  details  in  each  fresh  achievement,  the 
least  of  which  would  be  riches  from  another  hand."— W.  D.  HOWELLS. 

Stories  by  American  Authors. 

Cloth,   i6mo,  jo  cts.  each  ;    set,   10  vols.,  $5.00;  cabinet  edition, 

in  sets  only,  $7.50. 

"  The  public  ought  to  appreciate  the  value  of  this  series,  which  is  pre 
serving  permaoeotly  in  American  literature  short  stories  that  have  con 
tributed  to  its  advancemeot," — The  Boston  Globe. 

Octave  Thanet. 

Expiation.  Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Frost.  12010,  paper,  50  cts.; 
cloth,  $1.00.  Stories  of  a  Western  Town.  12010.  Illustrated 
by  A.  B.  Frost.  $1.25. 

Octave  Thaoet  has  in  this  oew  book  of  Western  stories  a  completely 
fresh  field,  in  which  she  has  done  her  finest  work.  These  stories  portray 
the  types  and  conditions  of  life  in  the  thriving,  pushing  towns  of  the  great 
Cential  Western  States  with  knowledge,  sympathy  and  a  fine  literary  art. 

John  T.  Wheelwright. 

A  Child  of  the  Century,     12010,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00. 
"  A  typical  story  of  political  aod  social  life,  free  from  cyoicism  of  morbid 
realism,  and  brimmiog  over  with  fun." — The  Christian  at   Work. 


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